


Hurricane [Insert Name Here]

by soobiscuits



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-31 17:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 59,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12687012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soobiscuits/pseuds/soobiscuits
Summary: In which both Kyungsoo and Chanyeol realise why hurricanes are named after people.





	1. The Calm

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hurricane Chanyeol](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/337635) by pandabiscuits. 



> so i chose a very relatable day to post this because i'm single and i just wanted to be able to wish everyone a Happy Pepero Day-slash-Singles' Day! 
> 
> please, enjoy this mess that is the soap i wish i hadn't had the mind to think of and write
> 
> ps, warning of mixed povs (i know i'm sorry but i blame my 2016-self for thinking that mixed povs are cool sighs ;;; )

“It would do you good to remember that you are a nobody in this school!"

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t even flinch when papers hit his face and a brief, but sharp, pain slices his cheek.  _ Shit,  _ he thinks,  _ that had better not be a paper cut _ , and Kyungsoo begins to lament (in his head, of course) about the fact that he has to lie to his grandmother for the  _ n _ th time in a week about the cuts, bruises, or just about any injury he'd somehow gotten on his body. 

 

He mourns for his conscience, guilt piling up into a towering mountain that always threatens to topple with every lie he tells to the elderly woman. Kyungsoo doesn't regret lying, though; he doesn't want his grandmother to know that he's being bullied in school. The old woman doesn't need more worries in her life. Worrying about the increasing standards of living is hard enough. Also, worrying about whether you’d get to have food on your table for your next meal is more than justified as a major worry in most people’s lives. 

 

Your grandson being bullied in school on the pretext of him being an orphan is hardly a major worry.  _ Barely _ , actually. 

 

So as Kyungsoo drags himself up a flight of stairs, willing himself to not wince in pain each time a bead of perspiration slides past that  _ ugh, damn _ papercut on his cheek, he racks his brain for an excuse that he hasn’t told his grandmother. He comes up with nothing, the minor cut on his cheek proving to be anything  _ but _ minor as Kyungsoo feels more pain each time his perspiration grazes over it. 

 

“I’m screwed,” Kyungsoo resignedly breathes out, as his feet finally step onto the final step and he extends his hand, fingers wrapping themselves around a doorknob. He twists it. The door to the rooftop swings open easily, and Kyungsoo would have thrown himself out onto the expanse of space as he has always done if not for a melody that welcomes him. The tune stops Kyungsoo in his tracks like a spell has been cast on him.

 

_ Guitar _ , he immediately thinks,  _ I hear a guitar _ . The thought prompts Kyungsoo to (painfully) recall the uncountable number of times a certain childhood friend has forced him to accompany him to the instrument stores in the city just to look at the guitars for sale. Said childhood friend had also made him fork out a part of his piggy bank savings (hey, they were, like, ten then) to buy a guitar together ( _ read: for him _ ). Kyungsoo never got to touch the guitar. It was whisked away to his childhood friend’s apartment the moment the guitar was handed to him, and even now, Kyungsoo can only  _ see  _ it, not  _ touch  _ it (because his childhood friend’s  ~~ petty ~~ protective like that).

 

Yet, instead of wanting to  _ see  _ this particular guitar, Kyungsoo just stays at the door, leaning against the doorway with a curious ear facing out. The melody that thrums in the air is smooth yet playful, much like the compositions his childhood friend insists on playing to him. (Tell no one, especially said childhood friend, but Kyungsoo has always enjoyed those sessions because  _ my friend is one hell of a guitar player and he doesn’t even go for classes. _ ) Kyungsoo closes his eyes and lets his hearing take over, allowing himself to fall into the soothing strum of the unseeable guitar. 

 

A while later, Kyungsoo’s heightened sense of hearing lets him pick up on the exact moment when the guitar suddenly stops strumming and a soft, pleasantly deep  _ alright time to go _ replaces the easy-hearing tune. He freezes, not knowing what to do because he hasn’t had the chance to practice running away after hearing guitar melodies played by a mysterious person (who has, honestly), but the instance Kyungsoo hears footsteps heading his way, his mind suddenly works and he finds himself scarpering. 

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t even turn back even though he hears a gasp in the same deep baritone.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol knows that someone has been listening in to his (illegal-yet-not-really-illegal) jamming sessions on the roof. He hasn't actually seen the mysterious listener per se, but Chanyeol's caught back views of the student as he (yes, _he_ , because the student's long uniform pants is clearly an obvious indication of gender) literally flies down the stairs and out of his sight. Chanyeol wants to meet his silent listener face to face someday, but seeing how he always forgets to stay quiet whilst tiptoeing to the door, mouth betraying him by letting slip deep chuckles of anticipation, the exchange student isn't going to greet his _first fan_ ( _how exciting, oh my gosh!_ ) anytime soon. 

 

“Keep quiet then!” His school-assigned buddy  lamely advises him and Chanyeol just rolls his eyes. “As if I haven’t tried to! You know how my mouth just can’t– Um, what’s that Chinese word again?” He scratches his head and smiles apologetically at his buddy who sighs, seemingly fondly. 

 

“I’ve already told you before, Chanyeol. If you’re uncomfortable with speaking in Chinese, we can always converse in Korean because it’s not like I’m unable to, y’know.” And the buddy clucks his tongue in mock disapproval. 

 

The conversation ends on that note, with Chanyeol shrugging and his buddy cracking a knowing smile. 

  
  


(“I’m serious, though.” Chanyeol’s buddy pipes up a while later, a look of seriousness on his face. “As much as you want to learn my native tongue, you can’t deny that you’re lousy at it.” 

 

“How harsh! And to think everyone thinks you’re a  _ xiao mian yang  _ in school!” Chanyeol pouts, which elicits a bout of laughter—that faintly reminds Chanyeol of tinkling windchimes—from his buddy who just playfully ruffles the exchange student’s hair.)

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Say, has  _ po-po  _ been asking you about stuff lately?” Kyungsoo glances up from the textbook in his lap to direct a question at the boy sitting on his bed, legs crossed with a guitar on his thighs. The boy seems to be thoroughly engrossed in tuning the instrument and doesn’t hear the question until Kyungsoo whacks one of his knees with the textbook and finally earns his attention. And an  _ oi that hurts!  _ from him. 

 

Kyungsoo just sticks out his tongue and dodges the fingers darting his way, no doubt entrusted with the mission to inflict harm upon his face. He grins smugly as his hands successfully capture those villainy digits as they were backtracking towards their owner and his childhood friend groans, "I'm always being treated like this!"

 

"For the record, you're always suffering bodily harm while  _ I _ suffer through material means. And in case you've forgotten, you extorted basically my entire childhood savings for that–" Kyungsoo stabs a finger at the guitar now placed on his bed. "–bloody thing, and I've never even touched it! Not even once, Yixing, not even  _ once _ !" He lands another well-aimed whack on the boy's knee with his textbook and pointedly ignores the resulting hiss of pain. 

 

“I’m telling  _ po-po _ !” is what Yixing stage-whispers the moment the pain in his knee passes over and he smirks at his childhood friend’s paling face. The smirk, however, immediately falters when Kyungsoo suddenly gets on his knees and practically begs, “Please don’t, Xing,  _ don’t _ .  _ Po-po _ already has so many things to worry about, and the fact that my parents’ life savings are running out isn’t helping us at all.” Kyungsoo’s eyes begin to glisten and that startles Yixing, his legs unfolding themselves and in seconds, he’s next to him on the floor. 

 

“ _ Po-po _ doesn’t know that I’ve gone through her bank books and financial records, but that’s not the point.” Kyungsoo’s about to break down, his tears pooling at the rims of his eyes and waiting to burst through the seams of his trembling eyelids. “The point is that even though I’m no accountant, I know what it means when numbers keep getting smaller and smaller and smaller.” There is a quiver in Kyungsoo’s voice and hearing it himself frightens Kyungsoo because, in all eighteen years of his life, his voice rarely trembles. Sure, Kyungsoo has had his fair share of shedding tears during certain circumstances through the years but he never shakes, never  _ breaks down _ . 

 

So, when Kyungsoo finally lets his high, sturdy walls crumble, he’s so, so,  _ so  _ glad to have Yixing next to him. Eighteen years of being acquaintances, fifteen years of true friendship, and eleven years of accompanying him down an orphaned path has prepared Yixing enough;  _ much more than enough actually _ , Kyungsoo thinks Yixing would dare to argue. Yixing wraps his arms around Kyungsoo, gently pushes Kyungsoo’s head towards his chest and Yixing softly pats his hand in a rhythmic pattern against the back of Kyungsoo’s head. Yixing begins to hum, the tune of one of his mellower compositions seamlessly assimilating into the silence of Kyungsoo’s room until it overwhelms the white noise and becomes as natural as the continuous patting of his head. 

 

Yixing’s gestures are so natural that Kyungsoo thinks his childhood friend has been waiting. Waiting patiently for the day where he finally decides to let go of the matters that have been slowly poisoning him, killing their host from the inside. And Kyungsoo thinks that the eleven-year-long wait on Yixing’s part wasn’t without thought. Yixing must have been silently watching, observing, carefully thinking as to how to go about comforting him. Kyungsoo isn’t disappointed,  _ would never be  _ disappointed. This is Yixing he’s talking about. The one person who’s always been there for him. 

 

Kyungsoo would never ever think that Yixing has failed him. Never.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


A bout of loud chatter unceremoniously wakes Chanyeol up from his (sleep)walking through the hallway, his shutting eyelids flying open the instant a roar of a male pierces his ears. Hands reach upwards to rub at them, and even though Chanyeol very much loves his big (but cute, or so some people compliment) ears, curiosity has taken a hold of him and he  quietly makes his way towards the commotion. Even though Chanyeol’s eyes see what he has already expected himself to see, the anticipation doesn’t make the shock that washes over him any lesser. 

 

Chanyeol knows that someone is being bullied in school. He hasn’t seen the bullying, but he has heard the aftermath of it a couple of times in the form of senior boys laughing their heads off about  _ that boy and his submissive character _ . As much as Chanyeol wants to lash out at them for bullying, he doesn’t, for despite his height and built, Chanyeol always has been timid by nature. Or, perhaps, he still lives in the shadows of those years of being bullied himself when he was everything but what he is now. Childhood nightmares never really do go away even when you’ve grown up. So, Chanyeol keeps quiet whenever he bumps into the group of them, smiling politely when their eyes snap to him, silently praying that he won’t ever be on the receiving end of their awful actions.

 

Chanyeol also knows that everyone knows that someone is being bullied. He’s broached the topic several times, subtly bringing it up to his friends in their conversations, but each time they brush it off as easily as the imaginary dust upon their uniforms. Chanyeol knows that they know, seeing how their eyes always dart away when he starts talking about it, but he doesn’t understand why they’re not doing anything about it. Isn’t it a guy’s job to protect or help people in distress? 

 

Yet, he always gets this:  _ “Our job, Chanyeol, is to study hard and try to get into our desired universities.” _ and disapproving looks from his group of friends before they go back to chatting amongst themselves, the topic forgotten in a blink of an eye. Chanyeol envies them, being able to be so carefree about it. But it’s different for him, and it also seems to be the same as well for one of his friends. His school-assigned buddy always flinches when the bullying topic comes up and Chanyeol is quick to realise that it’s a subconscious habit—Yixing always flinches when he’s nervous. 

 

Chanyeol isn’t dumb. He knows something’s up and would always scoot towards his buddy and try to dig answers out of him. Yixing resists each time, eyes pointedly looking everywhere but at his foreign friend whose puppy eyes seriously  _ need to gouge out and thrown somewhere where he can’t use it against weak lambs  _ like him (Yixing has lamented once). Fortunately, either Yifan or Lu Han always comes to his rescue and distracts the exchange student enough for Yixing to escape. 

 

Right now, though, there isn’t anyone to distract Chanyeol as he stands near the commotion. He blinks, blinks again. The students who just walk past the group of senior boys and a single boy backed against the hallway wall actually slow down when they pass Chanyeol by, their sleepy eyes widening in recognition at their school’s exchange student for the year. Chanyeol feels their gazes but he ignores them for the more important thing at hand—the apparent bullying in front of him. (In his head, though, he’s berating every single one of them for _ fucking  _ ignoring the poor bullied boy.)

 

The senior boys begin to chatter again, their faces twisting into disgusting grins Chanyeol immediately associates with insane villains, as one of them extends a hand towards the hidden face of the lone boy and suddenly, a loud sound sickeningly similar to a whip lashing against flesh reverberates throughout the hallway. The entire hallway seems to have stopped in time, with everyone freezing—feet stopping, mouths dropping as eyes snap towards the sound’s obvious source. But just as quickly as the hand of the male senior came upon the boy’s face, the frozen frame unfreezes itself and the hallway mercilessly roars back to life. 

 

Students start to walk past Chanyeol again. They continue to walk past the large group of boys blocking half the hallway as though the sight is an everyday thing for them and not worth their time. At that thought, Chanyeol’s fists clench themselves and his jaw hardens with an unknown bout of determination that appears out of nowhere. Chanyeol doesn’t know when, but his eyes have fixated themselves upon the boy and he watches as a senior boy shoves him against the wall  _ hard _ . Chanyeol half-expects the wall to have a dent in the shape of the boy if this continues up and no one– 

 

Something dawns on him.  _ Oh.  _ And Chanyeol does something  ~~ stupid (and he regrets instantly) ~~ .

 

“H-Hey, knock it off.” His deep voice travels the distance between the group and him, and seconds later Chanyeol finds himself as the target of numerous pairs of narrowed eyes as well as a separate pair blowing wide before transforming into a glare with the heat of a volcano. He gulps but a tad of relief seeps into him when he sees that the seniors’ attention has been diverted, even if it’s being diverted to  _ him _ . At least the boy is safe now, and Chanyeol has done his job; he’s saved the person in distress! (Even if he’s just realised that the glare with the heat of a [now erupting] volcano is coming from him.) 

 

_ Is this normal _ , Chanyeol gulps, again.  _ No one has mentioned that heroes get glared at by the persons they have saved.  _

 

“Stop bullying him. What’s he got on you anyway.” Chanyeol doesn’t know where his courage  (or stupidity) is materialising from but wherever it came from, he can only pray for more of it to keep coming because  _ holy shit they’re coming over and I’m fucked _ . Fortunately, the seniors bypass him, throwing him knowing smiles, and Chanyeol tries hard to not scream in horror when he feels a hand squeezing his butt cheek. Amidst laughter, the large group of boys disappear into the sudden influx of students rushing towards their classrooms. Chanyeol still has his gaze on the boy, and— _ uh-oh _ —he sees him stomping towards him with that volcanic-temperature glare on his  _ good-looking fa– huh wait this isn’t the time _ –

 

“First rule of breaking up a bully scene is to never break up a bully scene,” the boy hisses, holding up a finger and another one soon joins the first one. “Second rule of breaking up a bully scene is to never break up a bully scene, and the third rule of breaking up a bully scene is to  _ never. Break. Up. A. Bully. Scene. _ ” The boy’s three fingers come dangerously close to Chanyeol’s eyes, and Chanyeol leans back in slight fear.

 

“I can’t help myself,” he replies from the top of his head, not bothering to process his words, and Chanyeol  _ genuinely  _ fears for his life when the expression on the boy’s face darkens exponentially. He hurriedly adds on, “I can’t help it! It’s like there’s a superhero inside of me and, I swear, I get annoyed by it too because I feel like I have to save that person no matter who he or she is and I’m just– just  _ helpless _ against it.” Chanyeol throws his hands up in mock frustration, eyes darting upwards to the ceiling and missing the twitch of the boy’s corners of his lips and the amusement that flits across his eyes. 

 

When Chanyeol finally breathes enough to compensate for the oxygen used in his rambling, he returns his eyes to the boy and sucks in a sharp breath when he finds him staring at him. The boy also seems to have realised that he’s been found out and his round orbs immediately narrow into slits. His lips purse themselves. “You’re not a superhero, kid. You’re just an exchange student in a foreign land and you should count your lucky stars that the seniors seem to like you and didn’t beat you up.” 

 

Chanyeol suppresses the urge to laugh at the sight of the boy’s face, but it is precisely because of his downright serious expression (and him recalling the glare of volcanic temperature) that tells him to treat his words as a sincere warning. Chanyeol dumbly nods and opens his mouth, wanting to thank the boy for, um,  _ advising him? _ but the boy has already walked past him. Chanyeol promptly shuts his mouth, and he would have continued to walk to his classroom when flashes of a certain  _ fan _ ’s back view suddenly bombard his mind. The images startle him and even though Chanyeol looks dumb ( _ hey! _ ), he's actually pretty smart, so he comprehends his brain’s message immediately.

 

The exchange student turns around and squints. He tries to catch a few more seconds of the boy’s back before he disappears from the hallway but, frankly, those seconds hardly help Chanyeol at all. It only leaves him with more confusion and as he finally slinks into his classroom barely ahead of the bell and collapses onto his seat with a concerned Yixing-face popping up beside him a moment later, Chanyeol finally remembers something. 

 

He hasn’t told the boy to apply ointment for that red patch on his  good-looking face.  

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


It's been a shitty day. 

 

Not only did the bastards find trouble with him in the morning, they have also taken it upon themselves to actually  _ fucking  _ search for him during lunchtime and seek revenge for the disruption during the morning's confrontation. 

 

The  _ disruption.  _

 

At that thought, Kyungsoo fumes.  _ Bloody hell _ , he seethes as he swings his bag over his shoulder the moment the bell rings, marking the end of school, and makes a beeline towards the one place where he's sought solace at ever since he entered high school. Waves of pure rage continue to roll off of Kyungsoo as he turns the knob of the door leading to the rooftop and steps out into the wide expanse of space. 

 

He runs to the railing and stretches his mouth, as though he wants to scream but his current location swims into mind so Kyungsoo just releases a silent scream instead. He then drops to the floor, places his bag next to him. He rests his head in the space between two bars, wincing when the cold surface makes contact with both sides of his face and temporarily sends slight pain through him because,  _ fuck _ , morning-slap on one side, lunchtime-slap on the other. Kyungsoo had stared in utter horror at the mirror after lunchtime’s confrontation, his cheeks slap-painted in shades of both pink and red. He had jokingly contemplated suicide instead of heading home. 

 

Instead of lying to his beloved grandmother again. 

 

Kyungsoo stares outward, face rearranging itself into a blank expression as he tries to ignore the stinging pain upon his face. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he lets them rest between his crossed legs, fingers relaxed. In the distance, Kyungsoo briefly registers a small area of green and the grey of the city before the image blurs and seeps out of his mind together with his recollections of the confrontations.  _ Unimportant matters _ , Kyungsoo’s mind deems and it pushes them out totally whilst it searches for  _ something _ . 

 

Moments later, it seems to have found it, and the tranquillity of the rooftop is beautifully shattered by a voice so exhausted, so  _ heartbroken  _ that only one who has experienced a story—of a hard life, a broken family, and promises that would never be fulfilled—would possess. Tears soon quietly join in at the chorus of the song and Kyungsoo’s hands finally have something to do; they slide up the bars and he grips them so tightly, his knuckles turn white. Kyungsoo sings for a few seconds more before the tears overwhelm his thoughts and his voice fades into soft sobs that wrack his body. 

 

Tranquility gracefully returns to the rooftop, a gentle breeze sweeping Kyungsoo’s hair out of his wet eyes. Yet, to Kyungsoo, the silence of his haven has never been more deafening, has never made him feel more alone than the present and, honestly, he’s afraid. But as much as he is, Kyungsoo doesn’t let the demons who have ridden on the seemingly innocent breeze capture him. He evades their advances, dodges their extended claws and snarls of  _ you can't do it boy you're weak and alone and an orphan  _ to throw himself out of danger. 

 

As he has always done. 

 

When the demons vanish and the silence of the rooftop finally doesn’t frighten Kyungsoo as it had moments before, he rewards himself with a small, genuine smile. There are no teeth; it’s just a millimetre upward tug of the corners of his lips to form the rainbow after a storm of raging emotions stemming from a shitty day. “I’m okay,” Kyungsoo reassures himself. “I’ll be okay, just like always.” 

 

And as he closes his eyes and tilts his face upwards to bask in the now-harmless breeze, in the streams of sunlight that broke through the layer of gray clouds, highlighting the tear streaks on his face, Kyungsoo doesn’t hear a chuckle from somewhere on the rooftop, and a pleasantly deep  _ stay strong, my first fan _ .

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Please convey my apologies to your parents, Yixing!” Kyungsoo bows to the boy standing in front of him, a flustered expression instantly forming on Yixing’s face and he quickly hauls Kyungsoo up from his folded body before walking him back into the apartment, sitting him down onto the tattered couch in the small living room. It is then does Yixing notice the exhaustion so evidently written on Kyungsoo’s face, as well as the constant darting of his eyes towards a particular bedroom door a couple of steps away, and he puts two and two together. 

 

“Is there something wrong with  _ po-po _ ?”

 

The fear that floods his childhood friend’s face gives Yixing a dreaded answer. Ignoring Kyungsoo’s tired calls of his name, Yixing makes his way to the door and peers inside the bedroom. The sight of Kyungsoo’s  _ po-po _ lying on the single mattress placed upon the floor greets his eyes and Yixing immediately zooms in on her chest, the fear on Kyungsoo’s face raising his suspicion of that, perhaps– He sees it rising and falling. The breath that Yixing didn’t know he’d withheld slips past his mouth. “She’s sleeping, thank god.” 

 

“Of course she’s sleeping,” Kyungsoo appears from behind and steps in front of him, and Yixing circles his arms around his waist as he leans into him, back against chest. “But that’s what she’s been doing nowadays; sleeping, waking, eating, showering, a little sewing here and there, before she says that she’s tired and goes back to her bed. And the cycle repeats.” Kyungsoo speaks softly, quietly, but he’s sure that Yixing hasn’t missed the extreme worry hidden laced in his tone’s monotony for the arms around his waist tighten. “Madam Heng keeps saying that it's alright if _po-po_ doesn't meet the deadlines but the fact that she has to make up for _po-po_ ’s inability to sew at the moment weighs heavily on my conscience.”

 

“At least _po-po_ ’s working for Madam Heng and not for the other seamstress at the other end of the city... But, Soo, have you… brought her to the doctor yet?” Yixing leans against the doorway, bringing the boy into his arms with him. Kyungsoo stumbles a little but Yixing holds him in place, helps him gain his footing back with his arms that ripple with strength and Kyungsoo amusedly wonders _since when has my_ xiao mian yang _grown so strong?_

 

“I haven't.” Kyungsoo disrupts his own thoughts to reply. He tilts his head backwards and rests it on Yixing’s shoulders. He feels Yixing’s breath pepper the side of his neck, warming his pulse point and it reminds Kyungsoo of the fact that he's alive. It’s a sudden, random thought, but he dares to allow himself a minuscule, inward smile. The smile instantly dissolves when his grandmother’s words make their way into his mind and out of his mouth in a whisper that speaks volumes of his fear. 

 

“Because she doesn't want to.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


The morning of Chanyeol’s first monthsary at his new school has him running through the halls, his guitar bag banging against his perspiring back, as Chanyeol attempts to make it to his classroom before the first bell rings. 

 

He doesn't make it (despite his long limbs and all).

 

Because the next thing he registers after rounding a corner is a stinging pain at his palms and his buttocks crashing onto the flooring of the corridor. Chanyeol also registers hearing a rather familiar voice that seems to be yelling at him and  _ uh, where have I felt this volcanic temperature...?  _ He lifts his head up to find himself staring into a pair of impossibly large orbs whose owner he recognises as the boy he had saved the other day. (He also finds himself faltering under the oh-so-familiar volcanic-temperature glare, yet feels warmth rushing to his face. He doesn't know why.)

 

Chanyeol somehow can’t hear what the boy had been yelling about moments before, so he only foolishly nods his head and sees the boy rolling his eyes before his fingers extend towards Chanyeol’s face and  _ oh no he’s going to stab m–  _

 

“Get up, you oaf.” 

 

_ Oh.  _ Chanyeol feels dumb and mentally reprimands himself for thinking bad about the boy ( _ bad brain, bad! _ ) as he gingerly grasps the boy’s hand and openly marvels at how the boy single-handedly pulls him to his feet. (Chanyeol’s feet, however, would like to add that they did some work too;  _ dumb owner, sheesh _ ). 

 

“Not only are your ears big, your eyes and mouth are pretty huge too, huh.” The boy looks at him, his lips in a straight line, and his arms folded across his chest. Chanyeol doesn’t know what to make of his seemingly blank expression but makes the mistake of returning the gaze, and he feels the warmth from before surging through him again. Chanyeol mentally laments for the fire brigade because  _ aie this boy’s face is on fireeeeeeee!  _

 

Chanyeol quickly shuts himself up before he actually breaks out into song, and cracks a small, embarrassed smile as he rubs at his nape. “I… know, I get that a lot.” And a faint recollection of his third day at his new school where Chanyeol had been told by Zitao, one of Yixing’s buddies, that Yixing has a secret boyfriend whom nobody knows of and the exchange student’s face promptly morphed into an expression hilariously akin to a toy whose facial features ooze out of their places when squeezed; Chanyeol had cringed when Lu Han brought it to school the following day and demonstrated the similarity between him and it. The poor exchange student had nightmares of  _ his  _ facial features oozing out that night. 

 

Lu Han then carelessly remarked a  _ everything about you is huge Chanyeol  _ which elicited an outburst of laughter stemming from boys (and their dirty minds), and Chanyeol had, honestly, wished that whatever his new friends were thinking about was true (he’s not…  _ big _ but nobody needs to know so  _ shh _ ).  

 

Silence creeps by, and it’s a few moments of extreme awkwardness before the boy speaks, “Well, I do hope that you remember the three rules when you chance upon bully scenes in the future.” He gives Chanyeol a dismissive wave and makes a move, his shoulder brushing Chanyeol’s when he walks past. Chanyeol faintly hears a mutter of  _ since I'm late so might as well…  _ and the exchange student’s eyes unconsciously follows him. A series of back view images suddenly flash in Chanyeol’s head. He then sees how the boy makes his way down the hallway and rounds the corner to–  _ wait, that leads to the only stairs that…  _

 

Chanyeol’s huge eyes light up. 

 

_ … goes to the rooftop. _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


It’s a new record. Two shitty days in two weeks. That, technically, shouldn’t happen to high school students. Heck, it should never happen to  _ anyone _ . 

 

“But of course, it just has to happen to  _ me _ .” Kyungsoo throws his bag onto the lonely desk in a corner of his room and then flings himself onto the mattress upon the floor. He contemplates screaming but his location, and the fact that his sleeping grandmother is in the room next to his, swims into Kyungsoo’s mind and he settles for a loud, resigned sigh instead. “It has to happen to probably the world’s most pitiful high school boy and not to people like those bastards–”

 

A loud, sharp knock on the apartment’s door scares the bejebus out of Kyungsoo, and for a split second, he thinks that karma is here to bite him because  _ no way are those seniors here even though they might know where I stay…  _ Thankfully, Kyungsoo opens the door to a  handsome ( _ please don’t make me puke out my precious lunch _ , gags Kyungsoo) boy whose hands are holding onto several containers. Kyungsoo just quirks his lips into an acknowledging smile and lets said boy in. “Didn’t know that you’re doing this too, delivery boy.”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Yixing says, an unamused expression forming on his face as he sets the containers onto the small square table in the  world’s smallest kitchen-slash-dining-room. Kyungsoo steps forward and helps him in opening the lids, the smile on his face stretching into a full smile. “You’ve stopped helping out for too long to know of the changes made to our establishment. Won’t you come back?” Yixing shoots Kyungsoo a pleading look and Kyungsoo unceremoniously smashes a hand onto his face, earning himself a shriek from his childhood friend.

 

“You know exactly when I'll start helping out again and stop getting free meals from your parents,” Kyungsoo answers with a sad smile and doesn’t doubt that Yixing, childhood friend of eighteen years,  _ knows _ —when his grandmother gets better. But even then, will the elderly woman  _ stay  _ better?

  
  
  


A while later, the pair of childhood friends settle down at the pathetic excuse of a dining table and it doesn’t take long for their chopsticks to start fighting over the limited pieces of Yixing’s family restaurant’s delicious  _ har cheong gai _ . In the midst of knocking his friend’s chopsticks away from a piece of chicken, Kyungsoo asks, “Heard that you’re friends with the exchange student?” Then, he quickly darts his eyes back to the battlefield, chopsticks expertly shoving the competition out of the container to claim–

 

“Yeah, I’m Chanyeol’s buddy. Why?” Yixing nonchalantly answers but refuses to be distracted as he immediately starts his counterattack, his chopsticks nimbly avoiding his to stab– 

 

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo replies, then adds under his breath, “So he wasn’t lying… Oi!” 

 

Yixing grins, his chopsticks proudly displaying his (chicken) trophy in the air before he stashes it into his bowl and hides it within his arms when Kyungsoo fakes a move to grab it. The pair of  childish childhood friends stays like for a few moments, eyes staring at each other’s before they burst into soft laughter. As Kyungsoo directs his eyes back to his bowl, a piece of  _ har cheong gai  _ makes its way into it and when he glances up, Yixing’s dimpled smile is all he sees. Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything, for eighteen years of being by each other’s side has its benefits—one being the ability to read each other’s thoughts. 

 

So with an unsaid  _ thanks, Xing  _ lingering in the kitchen-slash-dining-room, both Kyungsoo and Yixing return to their meal, though Kyungsoo senses that Yixing has something weighing on his mind. He’s not wrong. For minutes later, he finds himself under assault, Yixing’s questions that are all along the lines of  _ why did you ask about Chanyeol did y’all met are y’all friends I feel like something’s going on between the two of you…  _

 

And now as Kyungsoo lies on his bed, his mind replaying scenes of his  _ unfortunate rooftop encounter  _ that made his second shitty day in two weeks, Kyungsoo vehemently regrets asking Yixing about Chanyeol-the-exchange-student in the first place.

 

“All the stupid things happen to me,” he whispers murderously to no one in particular even though Kyungsoo has his glare directed at the person standing next to him in one of the few photographs on his bare desk. A dimpled smile looks back. “Like  _ you _ , Zhang Yixing, and that bloody–” Kyungsoo moves the glare towards the ceiling and a sudden image of a figure with a guitar at a particular rooftop pops into his mind. 

 

“– _ Park Chanyeol _ .”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol discovers the name of his  _ first fan _ by accident. No, he didn’t stalk him, nor did he ask for his name from anyone (Chanyeol’s a little too cowardly for that). Instead, Chanyeol discovers it through a scene he wishes he didn’t have to witness. 

 

For the second time. 

“Chanyeol! Where are you going?” 

 

“Somewhere! Eat without me, I'll make my way back to the classroom on my own when the bell rings!” 

 

Thus Chanyeol leaves behind a confused Yixing who mutters  _ but I haven’t had lunch with you for a week now _ , and dashes to his secret ‘somewhere’, head bobbing above the mass of students going to the canteen in the opposite direction. He sticks himself to the wall, long arms stretched out on both sides of his body, and Chanyeol briskly crab-walks, rounding a corner to the hallway that leads to the only stairs leading to the–

 

A sickeningly familiar sound of a whip lashing against flesh makes its way to Chanyeol’s large ears and he freezes. The soles of his sneakers skid to a halt, an ear-piercing screech of rubber against tile echoing in the hallway. He flinches but recovers quickly to silently inch himself closer to the stairwell, large eyes transfixed on the barely ajar door, large ears straining to make out the muffled flurry of voices travelling out of it. 

 

Chanyeol crouches down, fingers pressing against the tiled flooring to support the weight of his entire frame as he cautiously edges his head towards the gap between door and doorway, and peers into the space. He immediately wishes he hadn’t let his curiosity get the better of him because what Chanyeol sees can never be unseen for a long, long time. 

  
  
  


“Do Kyungsoo!”

 

Chanyeol sees the boy— _ Kyungsoo _ —stiffen in front of the door. Tilting his head to look past Kyungsoo’s body, he sees the boy’s fingers curled around the knob, and somehow Chanyeol thinks they would have twisted it, thinks that Kyungsoo would have hastily escaped out into the rooftop if not for Chanyeol calling out to him. He feels inexplicably delighted at that thought.

 

Taking a couple of steps up to shorten the distance between him and Kyungsoo, Chanyeol is about to make it to the final decided step when he hears a  _ thump  _ from above him. He looks up. Chanyeol’s face pales.

  
  
  


A pair of eyes begin to tremble– 

 

“You’re awake.”

 

–and they slowly flutter open before blowing wide–

 

“Please don’t scream!” 

 

Chanyeol stares down at the pair of large, round eyes with his own. He’s not surprised to see fear seeping into them given the current situation, and Chanyeol thinks he sees his own fear reflected in those orbs as well. “Please… don’t scream?”

 

“That wasn’t supposed to be a question.”

 

“Well…” Chanyeol sucks in his lower lip, bites on it as he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t think you’d appreciate that sentence being said as a demand, so I thought I ought to phrase it as a question instead.” He goes back to chewing on his lower lip, eyes still looking at the pair that’s also still staring back. The contact gets a little too much for Chanyeol to handle and his eyes soon drop to look at his fidgeting fingers.

 

Silence. Then Kyungsoo speaks up. “What’s… your name?” 

 

Chanyeol immediately snaps his eyes up and has to bite down on his lower lip again when he sees Kyungsoo jump a little. It’s cute. Kyungsoo looks so cute. 

 

_ Kyungsoo _ , on the other hand, seems flustered, his words coming out in stammers. “It’s only r-right for me to know since you know m-mine.” And a hand comes up to rub at his nape.

 

“I’m Chanyeol, Park Chanyeol,” says Chanyeol, a bright smile forming on his face. “I’m an exchange student from South Korea. Nice to meet you!” Chanyeol extends a hand towards Kyungsoo. He sees Kyungsoo looking at it, apprehension washing over him as silence descends upon them and Chanyeol’s hand is still hanging (awkwardly) in the air between them, with Kyungsoo looking as though he doesn’t want to hold it. Chanyeol has no choice but to take his hand back, but just before he moves it, a smaller hand slips into his larger one. 

 

“I’m Kyungsoo, Do Kyungsoo. Nice to meet you.” 

 

Kyungsoo’s voice may be soft but his reply instantly causes the apprehension in Chanyeol to evaporate. He shakes Kyungsoo’s hand, the smile on his face unconsciously widening to that of a grin. Chanyeol would have continued to hold onto Kyungsoo’s hand if not for the boy pointedly clearing his throat and Chanyeol lets go sheepishly. He doesn’t understand the reluctance in his action, but pushes that thought to the back of his mind to say, “Ah! In case you don’t know, I’m the student who foolishly broke up a bully scene you were in last week.” 

 

Kyungsoo’s face darkens. “You didn’t have to remind me.” 

 

Chanyeol pales, fear beginning to seep into him at the sight of Kyungsoo’s glare. Gulping (while thinking of the boy’s volcanic-temperature glare), Chanyeol stammers, “But, before you scold me again, I just want you to know that I didn’t break up just-now’s bully scene.” He holds up a hand, only to clench it and a wave of an ominous emotion inexplicably washes over him. “Even though they were practically abusing you as if you are their toy and I– I couldn’t do anything t–”

 

“Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo interrupts. “It’s okay.” 

 

“It’s… okay?” Chanyeol echoes, confusion evident in his tone. “You think what they did to you is  _ okay _ ? Are you serious!?”

 

Kyungsoo nods, but the way his eyes are evading Chanyeol’s tells Chanyeol that Kyungsoo definitely means otherwise. It’s not okay to him. Kyungsoo doesn’t think it’s  _ okay _ . But… if he thinks it’s not okay, then why is he saying that it is? 

 

“You’re lying. I know you’re lying to me, and to yourself,” Chanyeol says, tone gruff and a little reprimanding. He’s staring at Kyungsoo so hard and so heatedly, it’s a surprise the boy’s face isn’t catching fire. Chanyeol can’t believe Kyungsoo. He can’t. 

 

“I’m– I’m not,” whispers Kyungsoo. “I’m not lying. I’m not.” He reiterates as he finally returns Chanyeol’s stare, his large, round eyes unhesitantly looking right into Chanyeol’s own. “I’m not lying, Chanyeol.”

 

_ You are _ , Chanyeol thinks.  _ I can hear the hesitation in your voice. I can see the tremble in your eyes. It’s not okay and you know it.  _

 

_ Yet, why do you still so stubbornly say you are? Why, Kyungsoo, why? _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol dashes out of the classroom the instant the lunch bell rings, completely ignoring a confused Yixing, and he runs through the hallways with a destination firmly set in mind. The hallways are empty, save for the school’s current exchange student revelling in the insane (or so he thinks) speed he’s able to unleash. Pushing a door open, Chanyeol takes two, three,  _ four  _ steps at a time while ascending the stairs and before he knows it, the familiar wide expanse of space greets him. 

 

“First!” He shouts, throwing his hands above him in victory as he does a showy (but dumb) display of footwork before another voice quietly, but effectively, slices the tranquillity and freezes Chanyeol in his dance. “Says who?” 

 

The exchange student snaps his head towards the space above the door in an instant, as though he's been training this movement, and he does it so quickly he’s surprised he hasn’t experienced whiplash. Although he _ is _ surprised at the presence of a figure peering down at him smugly. “Goddammit!” Chanyeol groans and crumples onto the cement floor. He wants to curse aloud in the language he’s been diligently trying to learn, but he doesn’t know the words to and for that, he lets out a frustrated roar.  

 

“Being bullied does have its benefits.” 

 

At the same voice, Chanyeol looks up and finds the smug look right in front of him. He pouts and would have turned himself away from the offending expression if it was anyone else, but Chanyeol feels everything _but_ offended. “Why? Bullying is bad no matter how you look at it.” He easily lifts his hand to grasp the hand extended his way and inwardly (and embarrassingly) marvels at how Kyungsoo, even after these three weeks of being friends with him, is able to single-handedly pull lanky Chanyeol to his feet. (His feet just give up, not feeling the need to clarify that they’re working as well because, well, _dumb owner_ ~~ _with probable feelings_~~ ).

 

“Because I got myself a hallway pass in which I was supposed to use to go to the bathroom to clean my soiled uniform, but then I thought to myself:  _ hey how can I miss this opportunity to finally be first _ so here I am.  _ Finally. First. _ ” 

 

Chanyeol just grunts in acknowledgement, trying hard to not rearrange his face into a blissful expression when a hand cards itself through his hair and brushes his fringe away from his eyes. He doesn’t know when it started but each time Kyungsoo’s hand tousles or threads itself within his tresses, Chanyeol would stiffen and warmth with volcanic temperature would surge through him, the heat threatening to colour his cheeks with a telltale shade of crimson. (He’s been applying much more BB and CC or whatever cream his sister had packed for him in the mornings ever since.) 

 

“Psh, it’s just this one time, Kyungsoo.  _ One time. _ ”

 

Kyungsoo snorts, rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He crosses his feet beneath him and sits down onto the cement, his lips slightly stretching into a minute smile when a gentle breeze blows. Chanyeol tries not to smile upon seeing that, but he fails terribly. Yet, that same smile falters at Kyungsoo’s words. 

 

“Did anyone follow you up here? I don’t want to be scratched–” 

 

Chanyeol, again, fortunately doesn’t get whiplash when he turns towards him. “W-Wha– Wait, come to think of it, I haven’t searched– Okay wait, that sounds wrong– I haven’t  _ asked _ you to report today’s injuries yet.” He drags his eyes up to Kyungsoo’s face, instantly noticing how Kyungsoo pointedly looks away upon contact and Chanyeol growls gutturally before ( _ oh my god where is this courage coming from _ ) his fingers gently push at his cheek to face him. “Kyungsoo.” 

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes dart back and Chanyeol swears he saw an emotion he can’t identify flit across before the telltale shade of crimson that Chanyeol fears of colouring his cheeks appearing on  _ Kyungsoo _ ’s cheeks. Then, as though Kyungsoo’s face suddenly possesses the ability to burn, Chanyeol hastily retracts his fingers and wraps them with his other hand. 

 

“S-Sorry! I… I didn’t know w-what I was thinking…” He starts to ramble, hands gesticulating in every direction and he only relaxes when he sees Kyungsoo bursting into laughter, hands coming up to cover his opened mouth and the crimson on his face only intensifies as he continues to gift peals of gleeful laughter to the silence of  his their haven. 

 

“Stop being afraid of me already!” Kyungsoo wheezes, hands clutching his sides as he leans back against the bars of the railing. He shivers, and his arms come up to wrap themselves around him. “You were the one who wanted to be friends with me first, so why on earth are you still frightened of me!” Then, Kyungsoo slides his lower lip outwards into a pout.

 

A pout. Do Kyungsoo is pouting. Do Kyungsoo is  _ fucking pouting _ –

 

Chanyeol  _ knows  _ that he’s blushing, knows that his eyes are blown wide and his pupils are dilated and fixated on the beautiful sight that is his new friend’s  _ utterly adorable heart-shaped lips _ . And as much as he wants to slap himself out of this… trance (for the lack of a better word), Chanyeol knows that there’s nothing he can do to stop it or make it go away in the next second. Thankfully— _ thank(fuck)fully _ —Kyungsoo suddenly directs his attention back to himself, (those small, fucking adorable) hands fumbling with the state of his uniform shirt. Chanyeol takes this time to compose himself and attempt to calm his thumping heart. 

 

After coughing to get Kyungsoo’s attention, he asks, “You still haven’t reported today’s injuries, Mister Do.” Chanyeol’s commanding tone surprises him, and for a brief moment Chanyeol fears for his life  _ again  _ when he spies a split second of darkness on Kyungsoo’s face, but relaxes when Kyungsoo just shrugs and begins to unbutton his uniform shirt. Chanyeol yelps and splutters, hands darting forward to envelop Kyungsoo’s (smaller ones), preventing them from further movement. “What are you doing?!” 

 

Kyungsoo looks scandalised, but recovers quickly to half-shout back, “I’m showing you today’s wound, that’s what I’m doing!” He attempts to wrench his hands out of Chanyeol’s large ones but Chanyeol’s strength (though he doesn’t look strong) keeps them locked up. “Let go! You wanted to see, so I’m showing it to you!” And Kyungsoo tugs at his hands once more, letting out an exasperated roar when he barely moves at all. “Chanyeol!” 

 

“We’re both guys, but I have limits!” 

 

It is as though Chanyeol’s raw bellow broke an enchantment cast upon Kyungsoo. Chanyeol observes the way realisation dawns on him, and he watches how Kyungsoo’s eyes drop to somewhere on his torso before trailing upwards to meet with his own eyes. Chanyeol is certain that Kyungsoo knows what’s up; Chanyeol can feel his chest heaving erratically like his shoulders, rising and falling in an irregular pattern; he knows that there are beads of perspiration dotting his exposed collarbones; and he can tell that his eyes have gone dark and hooded. 

 

Kyungsoo gulps. “I… I’m sorry. I just– I just wanted to show you the bruise on my collarbones.” A dry laugh. “But I guess that’s too much, huh.” And Kyungsoo drops his gaze again. This time, Chanyeol follows.

  
  


A shriek pierces the air. Chanyeol, as much as his eyes are almost shut and clouded with hormonal lust, doesn’t miss the sight of his and Kyungsoo’s still-joined hands, and he practically leaps away from his friend. A second later, he realizes his mistake. 

 

If these weeks of getting to know the school’s only ( _ most likely, Kyungsoo had mentioned _ ) orphaned student and of being Kyungsoo’s only ( _ he had remained silent at this _ ) friend has taught him anything, it would be the fact that if one made any movement,  _ any _ at all, as a means to get away from him, no matter intentional or unintentional (most of the time, it's terribly unintentional for Chanyeol), the boy will unleash his volcanic-temperature glare followed by a lifetime of pain. (Chanyeol exaggerates; it's just a hard whack on the arms.)

 

_ Shit, he’s going to kill me _ , Chanyeol thinks, as he feels Kyungsoo’s eyes on him. He looks up, expecting to be greeted by Kyungsoo’s signature volcanic-temperature glare, but all Chanyeol sees is an emotion that he has never once seen on his friend. He knows that he ought to say something about it, that he should address the situation, but before Chanyeol can comment, the emotion vanishes from Kyungsoo’s eyes. 

 

“You’re afraid of me again.” 

 

And that’s the last thing Chanyeol hears before his surroundings go silent, and he registers Kyungsoo standing up, the familiar back view of his  _ first fan  _ appearing and disappearing in his sight. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


In Kyungsoo’s defence, as he keeps telling himself whenever he finds himself walking in the opposite direction of the exchange student, he is not avoiding him because he has realised that he might ( _ read: might _ ) have feelings for the boy. For all Kyungsoo knows, he could be avoiding Yixing instead, as he has always done ever since he started being bullied.

 

(At first, Yixing doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why his childhood friend insists on not acknowledging him in public. And now, frankly, he  _ still  _ doesn't understand.

 

“Because I don't want to implicate you in this. Only God knows what those bastards will do to you when they find out that we’re still talking to each other.” Kyungsoo says to Yixing for the umpteenth time, words rolling off his tongue smoothly as though he’s been saying it every other day. (Which, he has.) “Having you over at my house is already dangerous enough, not adding in the fact that you insist on me working at your family’s restaurant because nowhere else is  _ safe enough _ .” Kyungsoo quotes in the air with his fingers and Yixing rolls his eyes. 

 

He earns himself a smart smack on the head. “But, Soo...” 

 

“Shut up and do your Chinese.” Kyungsoo ruthlessly says and that shuts Yixing up, but doesn't stop him from throwing a dirty look at his friend. 

 

He earns himself another smack. This time, on the face.)

 

But alas, the  _ I’m avoiding Yixing  _ logic doesn't sit well in Kyungsoo’s mind, or in his heart for that matter, because as much he wants to stop thinking about a certain exchange student, he does the exact opposite. 

 

So Kyungsoo cleverly processes his thoughts, and forces himself to think about other things instead because come on, let's face it—Kyungsoo doesn’t do romance. It doesn’t exist in his dictionary. It’s as good as dead to him because the last time he was in love, the person went and got himself killed in a bus crash together with the other person he had loved dearly as well. Kyungsoo never believed in love ever since. 

 

_ But _ , in Angel Kyungsoo’s defence,  _ that was when you were seven and please, loving your father is different from loving another male _ . 

 

_ It’s still love _ , Devil Kyungsoo appears on Kyungsoo’s other shoulder,  _ it’s still  _ ai qing _ and besides, isn’t romance dead to you so you should probably kill off this feeling before it manifests and slowly poisons you from the inside– _

 

_ Don’t listen to that evil being! _ , Angel Kyungsoo huffs, his cheeks puffing out and a light shade of pink colours his cheeks,  _ he’s called a devil for a reason and look there’s ‘evil’ in ‘devil’!  _

 

Devil Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes at the bad pun and swishes his black forked tail whilst twirling his little pitch fork.  _ Love is bad, dear one, heed  _ ge-ge _ ’s words _ , and Devil Kyungsoo nods his head sagely. 

 

Kyungsoo automatically turns to look at the other contender of a competition he didn’t know exists until his brain decides to conjure up imaginary mini doppelgangers of himself donning angel and devil costumes, and have them debate the pros and cons of acknowledging his feelings _thoughts_ of a certain foreign exchange student. (Kyungsoo just thinks that his mini-mes are adorable in those get-ups; debate be damned.)

 

_ Chanyeol might not be your father, but isn’t he the only other boy besides Yixing to want to be friends with you?  _ Angel Kyungsoo clasps his tiny hands together and gazes thoughtfully at his human whose orbs swirled with doubt. The imaginary angel feels hopeful.  _ Think about it, my dear, who was the one who asked you if you were the one who has been silently listening to mysterious guitar tunes at the roof? Who was the one who asked to be friends? _

 

Kyungsoo just stares at his angelic mini-me, completely forgetting to turn to Devil Kyungsoo for his rebuttal and the inaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the evil presence as he stabs Kyungsoo’s neck with the pitch fork. Of course, the human feels nothing. The little devil roars softly in frustration and throws his hands in the air. A white flag appears in his tiny hands and he waves it at his competitor before  _ poofing _ into thin air. Angel Kyungsoo smirks but tilts his head upwards to look at his spaced-out human. 

 

He opens his mouth to speak but a sudden  _ clack  _ reveals a boy’s head popping into the stairwell and the little angel knows his time is up. Giving Kyungsoo one last look before fondly patting a tiny hand against a cheek much larger than he is, Angel Kyungsoo vanishes. 

 

“I thought I heard someone talking in here.” 

 

Kyungsoo finally snaps out of whatever daze he had gotten himself stuck in, only to shriek when the smiling face of his childhood friend sharpens in his vision. He literally flattens himself to the wall, palms splayed upon the rough surface, his eyes blown wide. Kyungsoo hears an amused chuckle and feels warmth over his head. “What are you thinking about for you to be so out of it, huh, my dear friend?” 

 

Yixing’s fingers threading through his hair soothes Kyungsoo, a welcomed feeling of familiarity spreading within him and Kyungsoo relaxes, bringing his arms down to his lap. He allows the corners of his lips to pull upwards slightly when an ever-familiar dimple appears in his peripheral vision, and Kyungsoo finally replies, “Nothing. I wasn’t thinking about anything.” 

 

“And  _ har cheong gai  _ is actually a steamed dish,” Yixing sarcastically sneers, his fingers removing themselves from Kyungsoo’s hair and the boy softly whimpers at that. “Don’t lie to me, Do Kyungsoo. I’ve known you all your life, I  _ know _ when you’re lying to my face.” 

 

And Yixing does know. And deep in his heart, Kyungsoo, too, knows that, so he just sighs and after seeing how his childhood friend pointedly shifts his shoulder towards his, he gets the hint and rests his head upon it. He inhales. 

 

“I think… I might like Chanyeol.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol sighs. 

 

Then, another. And another, and when he’s about to inhale–

 

“I am going to throw you out of this room and out of my house if you sigh  _ again _ .” 

 

Chanyeol abandons his inhalation to mumble, “I'm sorry…” 

 

There’s an unsaid  _ but I think I might need to talk to you about something  _ that lingers in the air, and from where he’s been staring at his workbook, the corners of Chanyeol’s eyes make out Yixing closing his workbook before turning to face him. 

 

“So, tell me what's up with you? Why is my happy virus sighing like there's no tomorrow?” 

 

“It's… nothing.” 

 

“ _ Chanyeol _ …” Yixing warns, eyes flitting over to Chanyeol’s opened workbook. The questions are undone. “I've known you for almost two months now and trust me when I say I've never heard you sigh.” 

 

The way Yixing looks at his blank pages makes Chanyeol think of how he’s certain that Yixing will secretly stuff his own completed homework into his bag before he leaves later (because his buddy is naturally super sweet and kind like that). But he doesn’t mention it, choosing to collapse onto his homework instead and he lets out a muffled groan of frustration. 

 

“Chanyeol…” Yixing calls again. “Tell me?”

 

Chanyeol says something but his answer is muffled by the arms drowning his face. He hears silence, and thinks that Yixing has given up when suddenly his head is yanked out of its cave and Chanyeol sees Yixing’s face  _ inches  _ from his. (The surprise of seeing Yixing’s  good-looking face keeps Chanyeol from processing that he’d felt Yixing’s lips grazing his and it just reminds him of those yaoi animes he  _ sometimes _ watches but that's not it. The point is, Yixing’s not gay. He’s totally straight.)

 

“If you kiss me, Yixing, I might just fall for you.” 

 

And just like that, the charged atmosphere dissolves and Yixing’s laughter fills the space instead. Chanyeol just stares at his still-laughing Chinese friend, head tilted to the side but for once, he doesn't feel like joining in. Doesn't feel like letting Yixing’s positive energy infect him and nurture the prevalent stubborn-as-fuck jovialness inside of him. This is bad, extremely bad, because for the first time (probably) in his eighteen years of life, Chanyeol doesn't feel like laughing. 

 

“Okay,” Yixing finally stops laughing, though he's wheezing and the corners of his lips are still tugged upwards into a dazzling smile that would have, on other days, prompt Chanyeol to crack one as well. But today isn't like  _ other days _ . In fact, the last few days haven't felt like  _ other days  _ at all. “This thing that's on your mind must be pretty horrible if you're both sighing and not laughing.”

 

“It is,” Chanyeol solemnly says. “I feel like shit each time I think about it– I mean him and–”

 

“Wait a minute–” Yixing roughly smashes his hand over Chanyeol’s mouth and shoots him the most disbelieving look his face can muster. “ _ Him _ ...?”

 

Chanyeol just nods sagely, offering nothing else in confirmation besides the telltale shade of crimson that's been flooding his face more often than he likes to these past few days, or weeks if he honestly admits, each time his mind wanders to a certain… someone. He smacks his cheeks with his hands and flinches because, duh, it hurts. 

 

“One of the seniors?” 

 

“... You don’t have to kick me out, Yixing, I’m leaving.” 

 

Yixing laughs, a hand reaching out to grab onto Chanyeol’s shirt when the exchange student makes a move to stand. “I’m sorry, I don't know what came over me.” He offers an apologetic smile which seems to be accepted when Chanyeol purses his lips but sits himself back down anyway.

 

“Okay okay, don’t say that I’m heartless.” Yixing leans his head towards Chanyeol, and Chanyeol reflexively leans in, curiosity defining his facial features. 

 

“Here’s a tip for you.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo opens his eyes when a heartstrings-tugging  _ hey  _ gently said in a pleasantly deep baritone travels to his ears and an even more heartstrings-tugging smile suddenly appears in his sight. He doesn’t even shriek in surprise anymore, doesn’t even attempt to flatten himself against any surface. He’s way past that stage, seeing how it’s been almost a month of being friends, and a month or more of  _ listening _ to him. Kyungsoo doesn't even try to run away anymore, deciding a few days back that avoiding his  ~~ crush ~~ newest and second friend is doing anything but wonders for his overall health. (He's been finding ways to calm his pounding heart instead, but so far to no avail.) 

 

So he just smiles and softly replies, “Hey.” Then, “I didn’t hear you climb up at all.”

 

The smile on Chanyeol’s face transforms into a smirk. “Of course. My ninja training is paying off.” And brows wiggle. 

 

Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes in response, earning himself another  _ hey  _ in the same pleasantly deep baritone he’s grown to  love like and a gentle shove to the shoulder. 

 

“I’m joking,” says Chanyeol as he manipulates his long legs to sit cross-legged next to Kyungsoo. “What were you thinking about that you didn’t even hear the loud ruckus I made while climbing up the ladder? And, um, I think I’m going to break the door because those loud creaks when I swing it open might mean something bad.” 

 

A deep laugh reverberates in the air and it resonates with Kyungsoo’s chest. Something within stirs but he chooses to pay no heed to it, and sits up instead. “Maybe we ought to tighten the screws on the hinges, or oil them,” Kyungsoo casually suggests, willing his eyes to not return the gaze that he feels on himself. Instead, he forces himself to look at the sky, and is momentarily distracted by a panda-ish cloud floating by–

 

“Want to grab  _ har cheong gai  _ for dinner sometime?” 

 

Kyungsoo chokes on the breath he’s been inhaling while a bubble of laughter struggles to rise up his throat and threatens to fill the tranquility of the rooftop with sniggers mocking Chanyeol’s funny enunciation of the Chinese dish. A large hand gingerly presses itself against his back and Kyungsoo feels its hesitation for a second before it starts patting. Warmth courses through him immediately. 

 

“ _ H-Har cheong gai _ ?” Kyungsoo manages to blurt out without coughing or choking on his saliva because he’s feeling the same gaze on himself again but he still doesn’t return it. “W-Why that?”

 

“Um,” Chanyeol finally drops his gaze and busies his fingers with unnecessary wringing. He worries his bottom lip but stops to continue, albeit much more softly. “M-My buddy says that nothing can go wrong with  _ har cheong gai _ .” 

 

Kyungsoo  _ finally  _ looks up while cocking a brow, confusion washing over him. He darts his eyes towards Chanyeol’s face, slight disappointment seeping into him when he realises that Chanyeol’s no longer looking at him. He hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show up in his words. “And  _ what  _ can’t go wrong with  _ har cheong gai _ ?” 

 

Chanyeol’s face goes red, and Kyungsoo notices a sudden bout of meekness that seemed to have washed over him when he sees the red contrasting so starkly against Chanyeol’s pale cheeks. If Kyungsoo doesn’t know Chanyeol better, he’d think that Chanyeol’s suddenly gotten himself a cold. The rooftop does get chilly every now and then even though the sun is bloody searing all the time but hey, China’s weather is crazy at times. But Kyungsoo  _ does _ know Chanyeol, though apparently not well enough because when the exchange student replies his question, his answer is definitely not what Kyungsoo has expected to hear. 

 

“A date.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


It takes about two minutes of repeated banging on the front door of the apartment next to his own for it to open, and Kyungsoo is greeted by Yixing’s bleary eyes.

 

One second of silence. Two, three, four, five. Then–

 

“I AM GOING TO MURDER YOU, YOU– YOU FUCKING BETRAYER.”

 

–Kyungsoo launches himself at Yixing and (poor) Yixing doesn’t even have time to brace himself before his buttocks are hitting the floor, the weight on top of him causing his limbs to dig into the hard surface. He groans loudly but somehow it only further angers Kyungsoo.

 

“ _ HAR CHEONG GAI? HAR CHEONG GAI? _ ”

 

Yixing drags his eyes up to the face of his childhood friend and tries hard to not wince under the murderous and volcanic-temperature glare that’s obviously being directed at him. Kyungsoo’s eyes aren’t blinking, and as much as he knows that Yixing wants to look away, Kyungsoo is glad that he isn’t. These eighteen years of being by each other’s sides must have tipped Yixing off about the confusion and fear hidden under all that bravado in his words and actions. He’s glad. Kyungsoo is  _ so  _ glad to have Yixing.

 

And, Yixing being Yixing, he just does what he’s known for and does best—being a caring friend.

 

“I just wanted to help, Soo.” 

 

It’s uncertain if it’s Yixing’s gentle tone or the sincere earnestness that Kyungsoo sees reflected in his friend’s orbs that beckons Kyungsoo to back down, to restrain his rage, and to just  _ stop _ . It’s probably both (which Kyungsoo doesn’t want to admit but Yixing the  _ xiao mian yang _ always gets his way), and so to Yixing’s blatant relief (of a loud sigh), the weight on his body lifts itself and Kyungsoo shoots him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to squash you.” 

 

Yixing cocks a brow, but proceeds to smile in the next second. “I think you totally meant to squash me, but it’s alright and I accept your apology so, Soo–” His hand gently combs back a bunch of the hair obscuring Kyungsoo’s eyes, and slowly edges his head near to his, eyes darting upwards to catch Kyungsoo’s attention. “–won’t you accept mine?” 

 

“Technically, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Kyungsoo says softly, as he resignedly returns his friend’s gaze but instantly cracks a small smile when his favourite dimple  on his favourite handsome face ~~(wait, it should be Chanyeol now;~~ ~~_ shut up, brain! _ ) ~~ stares back at him. “As you said, you just wanted to help.”

 

“But, Soo.” Yixing pulls Kyungsoo’s hands into his and begins to stroke the back of his hands with his thumbs. “I did it without consulting you, nor did I think about your feelings. So an apology is definitely in order.” He nods determinedly and the adorable dimple vanishes briefly, only to reappear when Kyungsoo prods his cheek, causing Yixing to smile. 

 

“Okay, okay. Apology accepted.” Kyungsoo prods his cheek once more, then again out of sheer fun. He earns himself a prod on his own cheek. “Now, won't you tell me why Chanyeol’s taking me out for  _ har cheong gai _ under your suggestion?” He gives Yixing a pointed look. 

 

“How'd you know it was  _ me _ ?” 

 

Kyungsoo scoffs, “Please. I may not be number one in school but I  _ am  _ number one when it comes to knowing you. And your poor overworked brain must have forgotten that I know that  _ you’re  _ his buddy.” Then he smacks his childhood friend’s head for good measure. Yixing just rolls his eyes. “Like I said, I just wanted to help you o–”

 

“But you're not helping me! You're–”

 

“How am I not helping you? I'm doing you a favour–”

 

“I don't need a favour because he can't possibly like me!” Kyungsoo exclaims indignantly. “How can he? How  _ could _ he?”

 

“Why can't he?” is Yixing’s response as he looks straight at Kyungsoo, his eyes piercing his. Kyungsoo, though faced with his friend’s unwavering gaze, doesn't back down. “Why can't Chanyeol have feelings for you?” 

 

“You know why.” 

 

A sad, yet guarded, expression forms on Kyungsoo’s face the moment his words slip out of his mouth. A frustrated groan makes Kyungsoo wince but he keeps looking at his best friend even as Yixing lightly pinches the apples of his cheeks. “It's been  _ years _ , Soo. It's been years since–”

 

“Even so, nightmares don't go away just because you want them to,” says Kyungsoo, and Yixing lets slip a soft curse when tears begin to form in Kyungsoo’s eyes. “Just because it's in the past doesn't mean it won't happen again, won't hurt me again, won't scar me  _ again _ .” 

 

“You're going to let one boy’s idiocy decide the fate of your future relationships?” 

 

Kyungsoo laughs bitterly, far too bitterly for his own ears but he doesn’t do anything about it. Instead, he just deadpans, “There will be no decisions because there aren't any relationships in the first pla–”

 

“Stop. Just– Just stop.” Yixing raises a hand. “Stop living in the past. Stop living as though you're still fourteen and that fucker still makes your heart pound because he wasn’t, isn’t, and  _ never  _ will be worthy of your affections.” 

 

Yixing practically snarled, but Kyungsoo isn't afraid of him. Rather, he's afraid  _ for  _ him. Yixing hardly gets angry, hence his nickname of  _ xiao mian yang _ , but when he really gets mad, things don't turn out very well because instead of inflicting hurt on the perpetrator, Yixing always chooses to damage himself. And this time, Kyungsoo’s afraid of that. Yixing can't hurt himself for him. It’s happened before, and Kyungsoo was so, so,  _ so  _ guilty at that time. It shouldn’t happen again. Kyungsoo doesn't need his mountain of guilt to grow taller. 

 

“Stop thinking about that coward who cruelly rejected you after receiving that threat from those bastards. Stop thinking that it was you who caused him to be targeted. Stop thinking that it was your fault becau–”

 

“But it  _ was _ my fault! If it wasn't for me, he wouldn't have transferred–”

 

“Stop–”

 

“–out and his friends all hated me–”

 

“–stop–”

 

“–because I was an orphan and everyone hated the orphan–”

 

“– _ stop _ –”

 

“–because I will never–”

 

“–STOP THINKING THAT YOU WILL NEVER BE GOOD ENOUGH!”

 

Yixing’s roar catches Kyungsoo off-guard, and the tears that have been slowly accumulating in his eyes finally fall. He feels wetness on his face, feels a little put off at how salty his tears taste, but more than that, he feels guilt. Kyungsoo feels guilty for making Yixing mad, for causing him to lash out. He fears the consequence of this, where Yixing would say that he's calmed down and wants to sleep and prepare for school tomorrow. But Kyungsoo knows that those are lies; Yixing will be doing none of those. 

 

So when Yixing barely manages to breathe out a  _ I'm sorry for shouting at you _ , Kyungsoo just shakes his head and pulls his best friend into his arms, rests his head on Yixing’s shoulder and peppers his sensitive neck with warm, ragged breaths. They don't say anything for awhile, hearts content with this usual, normal, and absolutely platonic way of comfort, until Yixing begins to fidget when his threshold of tolerating Kyungsoo’s purposeful breathing on his neck seems to be reached, and he pulls away slightly, but remains in Kyungsoo’s arms. “I'm sorry for shouting.” 

 

“It's okay,” Kyungsoo honestly replies. “I rather you shout now than…” 

 

“I think… I'll leave together with you later since my parents won't be home til late.” Yixing bitterly chuckles, a little too bitter for Kyungsoo though, his fingers tightening their grip on Yixing’s shirt as a knowing expression forms on his face. It doesn’t take a genius to know that Yixing himself knows that he won't be sleeping well tonight. “I don't want my demons to come find me.”

 

Kyungsoo tries to smile, but the intention wanes when Yixing reaches up to his head to tousle his hair. There is a sad expression on Yixing’s face that is, regretfully, all-too-familiar to Kyungsoo. He hates himself for always causing Yixing to make such a face. Yixing doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to be worrying his pretty head off about Kyungsoo. 

 

But Kyungsoo is selfish. He knows all that, yet he doesn’t do anything about them. He keeps Yixing by his side, keeps him chained, doesn’t let him go. Kyungsoo knows that Yixing wouldn’t leave, so does it make Kyungsoo seem evil by using that part of Yixing to continue to keep him by his side? Kyungsoo has no answer for that. All he knows is that he’s fucking selfish, and that he can’t stop being like that. 

 

“But, Soo,” Yixing starts to say. “You have to stop. Someday you have to realize that the past won't affect the future, so please.” He gently places a hand on Kyungsoo’s cheek and his thumb grazes the apple of it softly. Kyungsoo finds himself drowning in Yixing’s eyes, and his friend’s next words only serve to push him down into the depths of no return.

 

“Stop thinking that you'll never be good enough for anyone.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


The sound of a chair being pulled out rouses Chanyeol from his half-asleep-half-awake state, his bleary eyes slowly opening and fuzzy images of a busy beverage joint, of bodies moving here and there begin to fill his sight, and  _ huh is that a face– _

 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” 

 

The face sharpens into ultimate high definition and Chanyeol promptly shoots up, never mind that the painful sound of his spine cracking makes itself heard over the bustle. The smile on the person’s face may be small, but to Chanyeol it's as bright and as dazzling as the rising sun whose rays have been streaming into the joint even before he entered. He feels his best friend (i.e. the telltale shade of crimson) creeping onto his face. 

 

“Do you want anything to drink, or eat?” The small smile turns into an amused one, eyes swirling with confusion and concern as they dart over the table surface and take in its emptiness. “It's not good to start the day on an empty stomach, and I don't know where you'll be taking me today so…” 

 

“Uh,” Chanyeol finally snaps out of his daze and looks at the person seated opposite him, disbelief flooding him because, “W-Why are you here?” 

 

“Psh, just because I didn't reply to your texts doesn't mean I turned you down.” 

 

And the instant the small smile widens, the atmosphere lifts, lifts,  _ lifts _ until Chanyeol finds himself smiling as well. He realises that it’s not hard to smile in  _ his _ presence.

 

“Then what makes you think I'll be here waiting?” Chanyeol decides to be cheeky, since the atmosphere has become light enough for a joke or two. He props his chin on his knuckle and allows his eyes to glint with mischief, though an inkling of fear assaults him when fleeting darkness flits across the person’s face. Chanyeol wills himself to stay calm, even as the person comes closer with a growing smile on his face and he can almost measure the diameters of those twinkling orbs–

 

“Well, you're here, aren't you, Chanyeol _ lie _ ?” 

 

(Kyungsoo attacks with aegyo-filled sarcasm! It's super effective! 

 

Chanyeol is defeated!

 

~~ Send out next Pokemon? ~~ ) 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo looks up at the ever-familiar signboard that looms over him. He gulps. _Shit._ And the shitty feeling is even more so when he sees a figure that he's seen all his life making his way over to them, a shit-eating grin on his face and Kyungsoo feels all of his blood drain out of his face. The door opens, and Yixing’s cheerful voice does anything but soothe him (as it always does, but doesn't today). “Chanyeol! You made it!” 

 

Next to Kyungsoo, Chanyeol has his own shit-eating grin on and he nods. “I thought I'd have to text you that I wouldn't be able to taste your family’s dishes if Kyungsoo doesn't turn up, but what do you know.” Chanyeol bravely musters up all his courage and swings an arm across Kyungsoo’s shoulders. “He came, after all.” 

 

Kyungsoo’s too absorbed in the horrifying fact that Chanyeol had brought him to  _ the  _ restaurant he's been working at to express rage at his companion’s daring move. (Kyungsoo hadn’t even  _ felt  _ it.) And Chanyeol realizes then, for he's been waiting for a hard smack or a scandalized look to be thrown at him. So when none of those come his way, he sneaks a concerned glance at Kyungsoo. A stricken expression greets him and it's then does the exchange student discover that something is indeed wrong with the boy. 

 

“Kyungsoo...? What's wrong?” Chanyeol’s arm slowly slides down from Kyungsoo’s shoulders, and it unconsciously wraps itself around Kyungsoo’s waist. Dipping his head down, Chanyeol tries to catch Kyungsoo’s attention and, to his relief, he gets it. 

 

Kyungsoo suddenly smiles, then says, “I'm fine. Shall we go inside?” 

 

(None of them notices Yixing’s raise of a brow.)

 

Chanyeol gives Kyungsoo a doubtful look and seems like he wants to probe but Kyungsoo blatantly ignores him and steps into the establishment. He misses the way Chanyeol’s arm slips off his waist and hangs limply at his side, and how a hurt expression forms on Chanyeol’s face. Kyungsoo also misses the parting and closing of his lips, as though he has something to say. 

 

Instead, Kyungsoo gestures for Yixing to come to him before tilting his head towards his. Now that Yixing is next to him, Kyungsoo can clearly hear the snickering and, honestly, it’s getting on his nerves. He opts to inhale and exhale to  _ calm down _ . Then, Kyungsoo whispers, “For the record, if I knew that Chanyeol’s bringing me here, I wouldn't have gone and met him just now. And you!  _ You _ ! Couldn't you have at least divulged a little of your buddy’s plans, Zhang Yixing?” 

 

Yixing sticks out his tongue and smugly basks in the fury that's clouding Kyungsoo’s face, but when Kyungsoo wants to push his friend off to the side, their location swims into his mind and he makes a mental note to commit the murder when he meets Yixing later after this– this  _ date _ ( _ oh my god I cannot believe I just said that _ ). 

 

“Chanyeol’s being very serious here, Soo,” whispers Yixing, the smugness vanishing from his face. A rare bout of seriousness replaces it and the expression takes Kyungsoo aback. “So how could I ruin this beautiful day when he's spent so much time planning? Also, don't make things too hard for him; the poor dude didn't get much sleep last night and, frankly–” Yixing scrunches his face, seriousness cracking. “–neither did I.” 

 

“Well,” Kyungsoo softly muses, both of them turning towards a table with a  _ reserved  _ sign on it. “Since you were the one that he texted for the whooooooole of last night, why don't you replace me instead?” He smiles innocently but rolls his eyes. “You'll definitely appreciate his plans more.” 

 

Mock horror forms on Yixing’s face, though the fake emotion is quick to disappear when Kyungsoo’s face darkens. “Are you, perhaps, jealous?” And Yixing wiggles his brows as Kyungsoo hurriedly protest-whispers, “As if! As. If!!” 

 

“As if what?” Chanyeol asks, awkwardly slipping between his buddy and his new friend. Yixing just shrugs and gestures to one of the two empty chairs at the rectangular table; Kyungsoo steps towards it with a polite nod and Chanyeol’s hands extend forward, wanting to pull out the chair when someone else’s hands beat them to it. Chanyeol darts his large(r) eyes to Yixing, and is equally surprised to see his buddy’s eyes blown wide as well. “Yixing…?” 

 

Kyungsoo looks between the two boys and senses that something is amiss. He coughs, and it works—Chanyeol immediately directs his attention to him and gives him a weak smile before walking over to the other chair. Kyungsoo sneaks a brief glance at Yixing, whose expression is a familiar one he’s seen many times. He quickly prods his thigh when he sits down, effectively getting his attention (and sad eyes), and Kyungsoo sends him a  _ stop beating yourself up  _ message through his gaze. Yixing responds with a quirk of his lips. 

 

“I’ll go tell  _ ba-ba  _ to start cooking.” And Yixing runs away with his figurative tail between his legs. Not realising that his eyes have followed his friend, Kyungsoo wishes that Yixing could carry his worries away as well. He’s so (unconsciously) fixated on the door where Yixing has vanished through, Kyungsoo doesn’t notice Chanyeol’s growing frown. 

 

He doesn’t, however, miss the question that suddenly shoots into his ears. 

 

“How did you two meet?”

 

It’s Yixing. And Kyungsoo does a double-take, jumping in his seat when he finally registers his friend standing by their table. There’s a concerned expression on his face. “Um, S– I mean, Kyungsoo? Are you okay?” 

 

Kyungsoo feels another pair of eyes on him, and from the corners of his eyes he makes out a similar concerned expression on Chanyeol’s face. He resists the urge to sigh. Batting a hand in the air, Kyungsoo says, “I’m okay.” 

 

Both Chanyeol and Yixing look uncertain, but at Kyungsoo’s reiteration of  _ I’m really okay _ , their expressions let up and Kyungsoo requests for his friend to repeat his question. 

 

Yixing just snorts, a ghost of a dimple appearing on his cheek. “I don’t think you’re okay but if you say so. Anyway, I asked how you two met each other.” The shit-eating grin that was on his face earlier is back and Kyungsoo very much wants to slap it off. His thought must have translated itself onto his face for Kyungsoo hears Chanyeol answering. 

 

“It’s terribly crazy,” he says. There’s that shit-eating grin again (and, yes, Kyungsoo wants to slap it off too). “But I met Kyungsoo when he was being bullied. Weird, huh.”  

 

Kyungsoo just rolls his eyes, but smiles into the hands that he brings up to cover the twitching corners of his  betraying mouth which begins their ascent as his new friend continues to speak of their first encounter, only to plummet back down when Kyungsoo hears something that he’s never heard before. 

 

“I’ve heard him sing, and he’s amazing.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo gapes at the  ~~ foreign ~~ familiar object in Chanyeol’s arms and he instantly starts chanting, “No. No, no, no,  _ no _ .” He backs away from Chanyeol and mentally reprimands himself for coming up to the space above the door when he usually sits at the railings instead. Now, Chanyeol’s got him trapped by guarding the ladder with his  ~~ shield and sword ~~ guitar, and that fucking shit-eating grin, which now that Kyungsoo has time to scrutinize, seems to tread on the fine line between normal and crazy. 

 

“C’mon.” Chanyeol keeps his eyes on Kyungsoo even as he arranges his guitar on his thighs for a more comfortable position after carelessly dumping the bag to the side. “Let’s try it.”

 

Although he’s not looking at Chanyeol, Kyungsoo can tell that Chanyeol’s eyes are on him; he  _ feels  _ his gaze, feels the hope. He fidgets, lips pursed and hands wringing themselves on his lap. Despite his initial rejection of Chanyeol’s request, Kyungsoo is actually considering it. After Chanyeol mentioned that he has heard Kyungsoo sing, Kyungsoo had gone silent, keeping eerily quiet for the entirety of the meal. To put it simply, he completely ignored Chanyeol and in the suffocating silence, he witnessed the dampening of Chanyeol’s mood. 

 

As much as Kyungsoo hadn’t wanted to admit that he wasn’t affected, he found himself regretting his decision because the sad expression on Chanyeol’s face haunted him for days after. Even this morning when consciousness filled Kyungsoo and the first thing he saw was an image of that very expression on his friend’s face. 

 

Yet, while Kyungsoo has already made his decision (it’s a  _ yes _ ), he doesn’t want to let Chanyeol think that he got it easy. “No,” Kyungsoo spits out, (teasingly) glaring daggers at the unsuspecting exchange student. “We shall not try anything.” Then his arms fold themselves across his chest in an obvious petulant act. 

 

Chanyeol blanks for a moment. Then, he seems to have caught on for he smiles. 

 

“Aww, please.” He gently pokes Kyungsoo with his guitar. 

 

“No.”

 

“Please?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Pretty please with  _ kimchi  _ on top?” 

 

“N– What?” Kyungsoo drops his arms, confusion and amusement washing over his face. “ _ Kimchi  _ on top?  _ Kimchi?  _ What the heck, Park Chanyeol!”

 

The unusual mixture of emotions must have created a funny expression for Chanyeol bursts out into laughter. Tears begin to form in his eyes, and even though Kyungsoo slaps the boy’s knee to shut him up, it only causes him to laugh harder. 

 

Kyungsoo gives up and settles for waiting. His eyes subconsciously dart to Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo finds himself watching him. He notices the way Chanyeol’s large ears go pink, the way his large eyes scrunch into crescents, the way his large mouth stretch unbelievably wide, his teeth on display for all to see. And, somehow, it’s all, unfortunately, very endearing to him. 

 

_ ‘I think I like Chanyeol’ my ass _ , Kyungsoo bitterly thinks as his gaze goes soft. His eyes are still resting on the exchange student’s reddening face. 

 

 _It’s more of ‘I_ do _like him’._

 

And the epiphany stays with Kyungsoo even as he (happily but doesn’t show it) finally agrees to Chanyeol’s request to sing as he strums his guitar. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol looks up from his Chinese homework and flits his eyes to the person sitting across the library table. A smile threatens to split his face into half as he basks in the look of concentration so evident on the person’s face; those round, large (and beautiful) eyes staring so intently at the myriad of Chinese characters that's been giving Chanyeol numerous headaches since he came to China, upper lip pushed upwards to support the pen squeezed at his philtrum. Yet, this expression reminds him of how the person had looked when he was singing, even if the contexts are quite different. 

 

And Chanyeol thinks, fondly, that he's falling, falling, fall– 

  
  


_ “For when I'm a billionaire.”  _

 

_ Kyungsoo ends the song gently, carrying the note until Chanyeol stops strumming and he taps his guitar twice to signify that– _

 

_ “It's over!” Chanyeol whoops, throwing his hands up into the air as he shoots Kyungsoo a very satisfied grin that prompts the boy to crack one as well. Proceeding to dance (weirdly), Chanyeol keeps his eyes on Kyungsoo, grin widening when he sees the utter delight on his friend’s face. That happy expression on Kyungsoo’s face is absolutely gorgeous. _

 

_ “You were amazing,” Chanyeol praises, slightly breathless since he's been dancing (more like throwing out his long limbs in all directions), as he sits back down and carefully slots his guitar into its bag. “Still as amazing as all those times I've heard you sing, although in Chinese, but still oh-so-amazing.”  _

 

_ Kyungsoo thanks him with a small but grateful smile, and Chanyeol can see the genuinity in the earnest, sincere swirls of hope in his twinkling orbs. They complement the upward tug of Kyungsoo’s lips and to Chanyeol, that expression might just be his favourite yet.  _

  
  


–ing pretty badly and  _ shit _ , it's even more so when Kyungsoo looks up and the concentration dissolves to an innocent, curious one that just makes Chanyeol want to reach over and pinch his cheeks and plant a chaste ki–

 

“Are you okay, Chanyeol?” 

 

–ss– “Uh, y-yes, super okay.” 

 

Kyungsoo doesn't look convinced (which is an expression Chanyeol has grown to identify whenever he says he's fine), but he lets it slide and darts his eyes to the opened book in front of his friend. They narrow into slits upon registering the blanks and he opens his mouth, ready to scold when–

 

“Please help me with this atrocity of a homework, Soo! Pretty please with  _ kimchi  _ on top!” 

 

Laughter rings out in the silence of the beverage joint. It fills Chanyeol’s ears, and he once again finds himself looking at the amused expression that would always form on Kyungsoo’s face whenever Chanyeol’s invented phrase that includes his—their, technically—country’s locality. Chanyeol knows that his gaze is fond, but he doesn’t do anything to change that because he has feelings for Kyungsoo. Chanyeol likes Kyungsoo, he really does. 

 

After his laughter dies down, Kyungsoo obliges. But Kyungsoo’s  _ yes I’ll help you  _ wasn’t achieved without effort, for Chanyeol had to take back his initial proclamation of  _ I'm awesome at Chinese so no worries Soo you don't have to help me  _ while creating a new proclamation that spoke of how Kyungsoo is  _ awesome  _ at Chinese.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t disagree with that.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Fingers are weaving into his hair and it’s not long later when Chanyeol’s head is being lifted off his arms. Chanyeol whimpers, his neck putting up a tad of resistance but at Yixing’s whine, he lets go and allows his head to be pulled. He’s far too lethargic to fight back. In fact, with every passing day since the week started, Chanyeol’s been increasingly lethargic. 

 

“Get a grip,” Yixing scolds, fingers still gripping onto Chanyeol’s tresses while his other hand heads to his spine to correct the exchange student’s posture. Again, he meets with little resistance but Chanyeol quickly goes back to slouching when Yixing’s hand is no longer in contact with his back. Yixing frowns, “Park Chanyeol…” 

 

“Tell me to get a grip when Kyungsoo is back,” Chanyeol grouchily mumbles, eyes reluctantly trailing up Yixing’s torso to rest upon his face. He pointedly ignores his buddy’s growing frown and look of disapproval. “I’ll definitely get it back once he’s here.” 

 

Yixing sighs and releases Chanyeol’s hair from his fingers. In the next instant, Chanyeol goes back to sprawling on his desk. He’s been in that position since school ended hours ago and, without looking at the classroom clock, Chanyeol knows that because Yixing has returned from his after-school activities. He doesn’t know why Yixing came back to class but gets his answer when the day’s chemistry homework emerges from under the desk along with Yixing’s hand.

 

“Didn’t you… text him or something?” Yixing asks, carefully placing the stapled sheets of paper into his file before stuffing it into his bag. “I’m sure you two must have exchanged numbers.”

 

“I did. But he hasn’t replied me.” And Chanyeol groans at that, recalling his text from three days ago that has been sitting unanswered in his conversation with Kyungsoo. He’s been staring at it for far more times than he likes, but he can’t help it. Chanyeol feels anxious, helpless when he doesn’t know what’s going on. And, also, this is  _ Kyungsoo  _ he’s talking about here. A person who’s become someone  _ important  _ (in uppercase!) in his life. “And I don’t know if he will ever reply.” 

 

From where he is, Chanyeol doesn’t see the way Yixing bites on his tongue, seemingly in a muted dilemma that he doesn't want his buddy to know about. There is a rather… constipated expression on his face as well, but Yixing still manages to say, “Maybe he’s just busy…?” 

 

Chanyeol lifts his head, his eyes droopy and blank, before shaking his head and going back down. “I hardly doubt it. Soo doesn’t seem like the type to suddenly not come to school.” And once again Chanyeol doesn’t see the thoughtful expression forms on Yixing’s face. He does, however, feels Yixing’s hand on his head again, fingers weaving through his hair and Chanyeol allows his eyes to flutter shut as thoughts of Kyungsoo Kyungsoo Kyungsoo continue to fill his head. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo carefully tucks his grandmother’s hand under the comforter and gently pushes himself off the elderly woman’s mattress. Sounds of springs recoiling echo within the room and Kyungsoo freezes, eyes flitting towards the elder for signs of waking up but thank goodness, she sleeps on. 

 

Leaving the door slightly ajar behind him, Kyungsoo traipses towards his room and throws himself onto the lump on his mattress. A muffled  _ oof  _ comes from it and Kyungsoo snickers, digging his elbows into the mess of comforter and human. Yes,  _ human _ .

 

“Murderer!” is the first thing Yixing stage-whispers when he pulls the comforter over his head and is immediately greeted by a hard pinch on the chin by his childhood friend. He yelps in pain, and Kyungsoo’s soft laughter rings out in the room. Yixing grumbles, “You know that I’m resting but you still dare to hurt me!” 

 

Kyungsoo shoots him a  _ of-course-I-dare  _ look and retorts, “I’ve said this many times, Xing. I suffer materialistic damage, you suffer bodily damage. Are we clear?” He turns his head to face his childhood friend, arm coming up to support his head as a pillow, a smirk on his face. Yixing does the same, except that he’s pouting. Kyungsoo satisfyingly shuts his eyes…

 

… only to open when Yixing says, “Chanyeol’s been asking about you.” 

 

Kyungsoo’s eyes flit up to Yixing’s and they maintain contact for several seconds until Kyungsoo shrugs and goes back to torturing Yixing’s poor, reddening chin, his eyes now transfixed on it. In the midst of Kyungsoo’s mixture of light and hard pinches, Yixing suddenly grasps Kyungsoo’s wrist, his hand sliding upwards until his fingers are slipping between Kyungsoo’s. Pulling Kyungsoo’s offending hand away from his abused chin, Yixing brings it to his chest level, resting their joined hands in the space between their bodies. 

 

“Why didn’t you reply him?”

 

It’s immediate, the way Kyungsoo grips Yixing’s fingers tighter than before. It’s a reflex, an action that he has no control over. It’s happened time and time again whenever he feels anxious, nervous,  _ afraid _ . Yet, Kyungsoo gradually settles back down, convincing himself that the silence of his bedroom is comfortable, comfortable, comfortable. Relaxing into his bed, he finally registers how Yixing has gone silent. A knowing smile graces his face. Across the mattress, there’s a similar smile on Yixing’s face. 

 

Eighteen years. Almost two decades Kyungsoo has known Yixing, and he _knows_ that the silence on Yixing’s part is his unique way of saying that _I’m here, don’t worry_ _I’m waiting so take your time_. And so after a few minutes, he finally speaks up. 

 

“Because I didn’t know what to say.” 

 

_ It’s an excuse  _ is what Kyungsoo forces himself to believe. That the reason why he doesn’t reply to Chanyeol’s texts is because  _ I didn’t know what to say _ . There are no other underlying reasons for his sudden… disappearance. There aren’t, there aren’t,  _ there aren’t. _

 

But upon seeing the knowing expression on Yixing’s face, Kyungsoo’s belief easily crumbles. Dammit. 

 

It’s actually much, much more. On the surface, there’s the monotony, the barely-audible tremble; under the surface, though, there’s the uncertainty and mounting fear of really,  _ really  _ not knowing what to do because as sad as it sounds, Kyungsoo’s never encountered such circumstances. 

 

He’s never had people coming up to him, thrusting a hand out towards him, saying in a pleasant(ly deep) voice  _ hi I’m– _ . He’s never had people complimenting him, praising him for a thing that nobody knows he even does. He’s never had people, or a person to be exact, wanting to be his friend (and maybe more). 

 

So it’s definitely  _ not  _ an excuse, no matter how much Kyungsoo wants to believe it is. It’s actually a plea. A silent but desperate cry for help from him to anyone who hears him. Unfortunately, there’s no one who can hear him because Kyungsoo doesn’t have friends. Fortunately, he has Yixing. And, hopefully, he’d  _ always _ have Yixing.

 

“Well, for starters, you could tell him what you’ve been doing for the past week.” Yixing gently tightens his grip on Kyungsoo’s fingers at the same time Kyungsoo relaxes his grip. A small smile makes its way onto Kyungsoo’s face as he visibly relaxes, taking solace in Yixing’s strong fingers. “You don’t have to go into details if you don’t want to. Just give him a sentence.”

 

It’s possible. It’s actually what Kyungsoo has thought of replying with but… The smile on his face suddenly slides off, and Kyungsoo’s face darkens. “I– I don’t want to burden him with news of  _ po-po _ getting sick.” Tension returns together with Kyungsoo’s tight grip upon Yixing’s fingers. “I don’t want him to know, because who is he to me anyway.” 

 

“Chanyeol’s your friend.”

 

“He’s an acquaintance.” A heartbeat later. “ _ You’re  _ a friend.” 

 

“Chanyeol likes you.”

 

A half-hearted snort. “Well, I don’t.”

 

“Don’t lie to yourself.” 

 

“I’m not.” 

 

“Don’t.”

 

“I’m not.” 

 

“Don’t.”

 

“I’m  _ not _ .”

 

“Don’t–”

 

“ _ I already said that I’m not so why won’t you believe me! _ ” 

 

The only pillow on the mattress-on-the-floor meets with droplets of salty tears that inexplicably spill from reddening eyes on a face contorted by exasperation. Luckily, it’s only one-half of the pillow that receives such treatment; the other side remains clean. 

 

“Because I’m your friend.” 

 

Those words barely come out as a whisper, but they echo within the room and resound with something within Kyungsoo. A choked gurgle. Then, he begins to wail. Yixing tucks Kyungsoo’s head under his chin and wraps his free arm around the boy, fingers coming to rest on Kyungsoo’s shaking shoulder. His other hand continues to hold onto Kyungsoo’s—just as Kyungsoo wishes for his childhood friend to continue holding onto his mind, soul,  _ heart _ . 

 

“Friends believe in one another, yes, but best friends,  _ true  _ friends believe in what they know is the truth,” says Yixing, his thumb gently stroking Kyungsoo’s shoulder. 

 

Kyungsoo presses his face into Yixing’s shirt, his mind making a mental note somewhere to wash his friend’s poor shirt for him as fat droplets of tears assault the front of it. 

 

“And I believe that you–” 

 

Kyungsoo squeezes his eyes tight, his heart not ready for what Yixing is about to say because, as mentioned, he doesn’t do romance. But he quietly listens anyway, and finds himself breathing more much easily after that, as though Yixing’s words doesn’t affect him in the way he expected them to. They, honestly, did affect him but perhaps,  _ just _ perhaps, Kyungsoo’s always known it all along. He’s known it all along so he doesn’t freeze, doesn’t blank out. He does, however, risk a minute smile. 

 

_ “–do like Chanyeol.” _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Next time, please just tell me that you don’t like ginger!” 

 

Kyungsoo slowly looks up from his bowl of fish porridge and falters under Chanyeol’s chiding glare. He sees the boy’s arms akimbo and bites on his lower lip. In Kyungsoo’s defence, he retorts (rather timidly because Chanyeol looks legitly pissed), “As a boyfriend, he should eat everything that his boyfriend cooks.”

 

Chanyeol hears his words and softens, arms dropping to his sides. He crosses his rented apartment’s small kitchen to be by his boyfriend’s side, wrapping his long arms around him. Kyungsoo lets out a startled squeak, the spoon of porridge in his fingers clattering onto the table and the substance spreads all over the wood. “Yeol…”

 

“I’m not mad at you, just so you know,” Chanyeol murmurs, going down on his knees so he can get into a comfortable position and his arms slip from Kyungsoo’s shoulders to his waist. “I never was mad.”

 

Kyungsoo looks down at the arms and hands circled around his waist. It’s a rather… foreign feeling, for the past month of being Chanyeol’s boyfriend, this is the first time Chanyeol has gotten this  _ much _ of himself on him. 

 

Since the start of their relationship, Chanyeol has been respecting and dutifully following Kyungsoo’s request of minimising all forms of physical contact. They’ve only held hands, nothing more. Yet, this proximity and intimacy doesn’t make Kyungsoo feel uncomfortable. It’s actually quite the opposite. And he makes his ease known to Chanyeol by placing a hand on his boyfriend’s clasped hands, while the other rests on a bed of messy curls. 

 

“I know,” Kyungsoo says, a small smile forming on his face as his eyes dart upwards to meet with Chanyeol’s. He gently taps a rhythm on Chanyeol’s knuckles and the boy’s eyes widen in realisation when Kyungsoo begins to hum a familiar tune. 

 

“Soo…?”

 

Kyungsoo stops humming to reply, “I know that you’re not mad, and I suppose it’s only right for me to have told you that I don’t like ginger in the first place.” He tilts his head to a side, a corner of his lips quirking, smile turning cheeky. 

 

“After all, I’m supposed to know all of you while you, all of me.” 

  
  


_ “What on earth is all this!?”  _

 

_ Kyungsoo pushes himself up, legs clambering up from the ladder and he plops himself at the entrance of the space above the rooftop’s door. His eyes survey the space and is astounded to find a cheesy set-up—red candles have been arranged into a large heart shape, balloons in complimenting shades of blue and green swaying in the back, and in the middle of it all (or in the heart of the unlit candles) sits a grinning boy.  _

 

_ // How many times do I have to tell you, _

_ Even when you're crying you're beautiful too. _

_ The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood. _

_ You're my downfall, you're my muse. _

_ My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues. _

_ I can't stop singing, it's ringing, in my head for you. // _

 

_ Kyungsoo gasps. The tune that Chanyeol’s strumming on his guitar is familiar. It’s so familiar that he finds himself mouthing the lyrics as though he’s only sung it the day before but what do you know—he, or  _ they _ , actually did.  _

 

_ // 'Cause all of me, _

_ Loves all of you. _

_ Love your curves and all your edges, _

_ All your perfect imperfections. _

_ Give your all to me, _

_ I'll give my all to you. // _

 

_ And as Chanyeol continues to pluck and strum the strings of his guitar, Kyungsoo gradually relaxes and stops lip syncing to the boy’s singing. He resigns himself to watching Chanyeol instead, eyes taking in the way his lips move to form the lyrics, the way his large orbs sometimes flutter shut in satisfaction before opening to rest upon his surprised ones. It’s not hard to notice how they twinkle with an emotion that Kyungsoo’s been seeing more than often nowadays. _

 

_ // You're my end and my beginning. _

_ Even when I lose I'm winning.  _

_ 'Cause I give you all of me _

_ And you give me all of you, oh oh. // _

 

_ Kyungsoo hears him carry the note, ending softly and Chanyeol stops plucking his guitar seconds later. He clears his throat, then begins to say, “I know that this is rather out of the blue and all.” Chanyeol’s fingers skim over the surface of the guitar, ghosting over its waist over and over until he inhales deeply and lifts his head. His eyes find Kyungsoo’s immediately and surprise washes over Kyungsoo because, wow, they’re twinkling so brightly– _

 

_ “But I’m confessing to you right now and, yes, the candles aren’t lit because I forgot to bring matches. And besides, the wind up here is unpredictable anyway so why waste the time to– oh my god please don’t think that all this is a waste of my time because it definitely isn’t and you have no idea how long I took to arrange the heart into a symmetrical shape and don’t get me started on how I had to fit my lanky self into this pathetic excuse of a–”  _

 

_ “Yeol,” Kyungsoo interrupts, a small knowing smile spreading across his face. “Calm down.”  _

 

_ Chanyeol unconsciously lets out a scoff but instantly rectifies his rude behaviour with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, but it’s hard to actually calm down when you’re the one confessing.”  _

 

_ “Then, if I confess too, can you calm down a little?” _

 

_ Kyungsoo’s words seem to have literally smacked Chanyeol’s forehead for Chanyeol falls onto his back, and the exchange student howls in pain when the unlit (thank god) candles dig into his skin. He shoots up, though, and dumbly splutters, “W-Wha?”  _

 

_ “I…” Kyungsoo doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. His brain is coming up with coherent sentences and telling his mouth to say them on their own accord. He doesn’t even know what he’s said until Chanyeol becomes a tomato and he’s gaping at him like he’s insan– “... like you. _

 

_ “I like you a lot, Chanyeol.” _

 

_ What happens next is barely computed by Kyungsoo as Chanyeol screams (yes, he  _ screamed _ ) and practically flings his guitar to the side before launching himself at him and Kyungsoo finds himself being tightly wrapped by long limbs and a nose is nuzzling into his neck and— _ oh _ —this feels nice. This feels really, really,  _ really _ nice.  _

 

_ “You haven’t told me that you like me.”  _

 

_ Kyungsoo feels Chanyeol stiffen, and he giggles when he realises that Chanyeol seems to have been scared by his misleading monotonous tone. In the next second, though, the boy wrapped around him relaxes and Kyungsoo hears a loud sigh of relief. He giggles again.  _

 

_ Chanyeol pulls away moments later, but his arms are still circling Kyungsoo’s waist and although Kyungsoo finds their faces to be way too close at that point for a still-undefined relationship, he’s actually delighted to not be feeling a need to back away. As someone who’s never enjoyed physical contact with others, this is a great feat.  _

 

_ And it seems that Chanyeol has caught on, taking advantage of Kyungsoo’s ease to lean forward, tips of their noses touching. Then, Kyungsoo feels a very light pressure on his lips.  _

 

_ “I like you too, Soo.” _

  
  


“Alllllllll of meeeeeeeeeee!” squawks Chanyeol, only to yelp when Kyungsoo lightly pinches the back of one of his hands. A pout makes its way onto his face. “Why’d chu pinch me. Why. Why. Why. Whyyyyyyyyyy–” And Chanyeol breaks out into song once more. 

 

Kyungsoo makes a mental note to tell Yixing that his buddy sings terribly (and he has the audio to prove it). 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


A spoonful of stir-fried pork almost makes its way into Yixing’s mouth when Zitao suddenly squeals alongside the hushed whispering that just erupted within the canteen. Yixing knows what’s he going to see even before the chairs opposite his and Zitao’s get pulled out. Looking up from his lunch, he chirps, “Hey, Yeol, and  _ Soo _ .”

 

“Hey, Xing,” Chanyeol replies as he pulls out the chair right across from Yixing’s and gestures to Kyungsoo to sit down. “That pork looks awesome.” 

 

“It doesn’t beat Yixing’s restaurant’s though,” Kyungsoo says, and the boys’ heads all snap to him. Their widened eyes catch him off-guard, making him nervous all of the sudden, and Kyungsoo’s pretty sure that he shouldn’t have let his thoughts slip. Shit. 

 

Thankfully, his best friend comes to the rescue. “My dad’s the best, huh.” And a smug smile accompanies it. Zitao rolls his eyes, muttering a  _ shameless  _ before he excuses himself on the pretext of going off to find Yifan at the basketball court. The three of them don’t miss the untouched lunchbox that he slides off the table, but no one comments about it because they know what’s going on. There’s no need to put  _ it _ into words. 

 

“Well, I’m going to go and grab myself a large serving of that delicious pork,” says Chanyeol as he affectionately tousles Kyungsoo’s hair before traipsing off towards the counter. Kyungsoo’s eyes follow him, and he doesn’t know that a fond smile is forming on his face.

 

“You’re drooling.” 

 

Kyungsoo jumps, startled, whirling back in his chair to see Yixing smirking. He slaps his best friend’s arm. “Am not. I wasn’t  _ drooling _ .” After sticking out his tongue in retort, Kyungsoo gestures to Yixing’s spoon, not registering that he’s sharing a friend’s food in  _ public  _ before he hears the murmuring that bombards him from every direction. It’s then does he finally feel the many pairs of eyes affixed on him. 

 

The old Kyungsoo would have put down the spoon and scarpered, his tail between his legs in utter embarrassment and fear of what those bastards would do to him. And if he allows himself to, his eyes would be brimming with tears as well. In fact, in all honesty, the old Kyungsoo wouldn’t even have stepped into the canteen, let alone sit at one of the tables with his childhood friend as he should have been doing all along. 

 

The old Kyungsoo wouldn’t even have agreed to be  _ someone’s boyfriend. _

 

The  _ new  _ Kyungsoo, however, just shoves Yixing’s spoon into his mouth and blatantly ignores the shocked gasps that invade his ears. He even shovels more of Yixing’s vegetables into his mouth, pointedly ignoring the boy’s  _ oi stop eating my lunch you pig!  _ before placing the spoon back into Yixing’s hand (after he’s practically cleared a quarter of Yixing’s lunch). “Thanks for the food, Xing. You can replenish them all when Yeol comes back.” 

 

“Thief,” Yixing sneers, but there’s no malice in his words and Kyungsoo knows that, so he just smiles and twiddles his thumbs. Somehow, he knows what Yixing will be asking him, so he’s doing what he can right now to calm himself down before his best friend attacks him with his long, long list of burning questions. He might have changed to a  _ new  _ Kyungsoo, but that doesn’t mean that some remnants of the  _ old  _ Kyungsoo isn’t still inside of him. And as he has predicted, Yixing begins his assault. “What made you decide to come to the canteen, my dear friend?”

 

Kyungsoo looks at Yixing thoughtfully, the smile still firm on his face. He’s ready. He’s ready to answer this because that’s what he’s been asking himself for the past week as well. Kyungsoo has noticed how Chanyeol seemed bored of sandwiches from the school’s convenience store and the leftovers from the dinner dishes that Yixing still brings to him. Kyungsoo has seen how Chanyeol lingered in front of the canteen whenever they dashed past it (because he can’t be seen with him), his eyes staring longingly at the food counter. 

 

The last straw was when he noticed Chanyeol’s (obviously) forced smiles during the previous day’s lunch and it was then did Kyungsoo finally admit to himself that  _ I’m making Yeol sad when he shouldn’t be _ . So that was the story and the reason behind the shocking sight that hallways of students witnessed: a bewildered Chanyeol trailing behind a smiling Kyungsoo as he dragged the exchange student from the rooftop down to the canteen. And along the way, never did he let go of Chanyeol’s hand nor cower under baffled stares. 

 

So even as he sees, from the corners of his eyes, Chanyeol returning to their table, the boy’s infinite-watt grin distracting him as it always does, Kyungsoo determinedly gazes into Yixing’s orbs instead and easily, confidently replies, “Because I’ve had enough of thinking that I’m not good enough for anyone.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol’s mouth drops to the floor, his bottom lip stirring up dust that begins its flight across the unwashed floor of his apartment’s kitchen. Some bits of dust actually float into his mouth and when he inhales through his mouth, he dies coughs badly. A hand immediately thumps his back, though _rather_ _painfully_ , Chanyeol adds. 

 

“Thank you for your wonderful reaction to my superb cooking skills.” 

 

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol wheezes, hands extending forward to receive a cup of water from Kyungsoo and he gulps it down in one shot, eyes shutting in relief as he feels the troublemaking speck of dust go down his throat. Hopefully, he’ll poop it out soon and not let it wreak havoc in his body. Chanyeol makes a mental note to wash his kitchen floor.

 

Kyungsoo grins and hums a chirpy response. After guiding Chanyeol to his seat, he gently sets two bowls of rice onto the table before plopping down on the only other chair at Chanyeol’s pathetic-excuse-of-a-dining table. The table isn’t all that big, but thankfully Kyungsoo only needed to cook for two so the table isn’t filled and besides, he’s had to squeeze the dishes onto the measly two plates Chanyeol could find in his apartment. 

 

“C’mon.” Kyungsoo starts to pile Chanyeol’s plate with  _ har cheong gai _ , stir-fry soy sauce pork, and sweet and sour pork. “Eat up. I didn’t cook all these for you to stare at.”

 

Chanyeol looks up from his mountain of Chinese food just in time to catch his boyfriend’s fond smile and in that moment, he feels full already. It’s not that he has no appetite (he always,  _ always  _ is and will be hungry for Kyungsoo’s home cooked food) or has already ate prior to this lunch date, Chanyeol just– just feels really contented. 

 

Five months ago, Chanyeol would have never thought that he’d be where he is today. If not for his sister who urged him to sign up for his high school’s annual exchange programme for second-years on the pretext of  _ widening your horizons and I heard that Chinese boys are actually quite good-looking  _ (Chanyeol had cringed at his  _ noona _ ’s wiggling of eyebrows), and for his parents who stubbornly refuse to cancel the Chinese tuition they have been sending him to for years (even though Chanyeol has thrown countless tantrums), the exchange student wouldn’t be here, in China. He wouldn’t have good friends (especially a certain  _ xiao mian yang _ ), or teachers who aren’t put off by his sometimes relentless questioning in regards to assignments. He wouldn’t have achieve grades that don’t lose out to fellow native schoolmates, and of course, be in a relationship that he’s worked, pretty hard if he honestly admits, to attain. 

 

So yes, as Chanyeol continues to watch his boyfriend of two months pile food onto his plate, he feels satisfied. Not in the smug way, but more of a thankful, _grateful_ kind of satisfaction. His eyes occasionally flit to Kyungsoo’s and when they coincidentally meet, his best friend ( _oh hello telltale shade of crimson_ ) will grace his cheeks with its presence and Chanyeol quickly averts his gaze. That doesn’t stop him from noticing how Kyungsoo picks out the ginger from the fish porridge he’s prepared (Chanyeol doesn’t like ginger too), or at how he attempts to debone the _har cheong gai_ because Chanyeol never eats his chicken wings clean (“ _What a waste of meat!_ ” Kyungsoo always chastises), or simply him just still placing more food on Chanyeol’s already-filled plate. 

 

Chanyeol’s heart is full. Full of thoughts of  _ wow, what did I ever do to deserve such a beautiful boy _ , and of the other things, both big and little, that’s happened to him the moment he’s stepped foot in this foreign land.  _ This is great _ , Chanyeol thinks as he finally picks up his cutlery after Kyungsoo’s mock angry stare snaps him out of his reverie and he begins to tackle the ever-growing tower of food  ~~ made with love ~~ . 

 

_ This is good. _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Of course, all good things must come to an end. 

 

“Are you sure about this?” 

 

“I’m… certain.”

 

“This is a mistake, Soo.” 

 

“Xing, it’s not.”

 

The usually unpredictable wind whips at the pair of childhood best friends, messing up their uniforms and rendering their eyes partially blind as their hair gets blown into their faces.  _ This is good _ , Kyungsoo thinks,  _ the day when I want a storm to descend upon us is the day God actually wants it to happen.  _ And he chuckles, letting the strong gale muffle the bitter sound and carry it away to wherever it wants to go. The farther away, the better. 

 

“To me, it’s a mistake. A very, very huge mistake that’s also a double-edged sword.” Yixing turns to look at his friend, face contorted to form the expression that Kyungsoo’s been seeing for the past week ever since–  _ sighs, let’s not talk about it _ . “It’s clearly hurting the both of you.” 

 

“It doesn’t seem to be hurting him though,” Kyungsoo murmurs, his eyes, though obscured by wind-whipped bunches of hair that he’s reluctant to manage, clearly looking at the person he’s talking about. He’s at the gates, chatting and laughing with the three boys he’s grown really close to within the past half a year. A fourth boy should have been down there with them, but saying goodbye to a friend is less important than accompanying a childhood friend experiencing heartbreak. 

 

“You can’t see his pain, Soo,” Yixing replies. He swings an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder and gently pulls him towards him. Kyungsoo obliges readily, head tilting to the side to rest on his  _ xiao mian yang _ ’s shoulder and both his hands finding solace within the warmth of Yixing’s blazer as he wraps his arms around the boy’s waist. Kyungsoo casually skims his fingers over his stomach and Yixing snorts, “Yes, I’ve been working out, you perv.”

 

“Am not,” Kyungsoo huffs, but breaks into a knowing smile anyway when Yixing presses a light kiss atop his head and his fingers begin tapping on his friend’s arm. Kyungsoo hears him hum a tune, only to go rigid when he registers it. “Stop,” Kyungsoo whispers, and Yixing pauses because the sharpness in Kyungsoo’s tone doesn’t go unnoticed despite it being a barely audible whisper and the unpredictable wind is still blowing at them. “Please stop, Xing.” 

 

Yixing presses his lips together, letting the song’s visual scoresheet in his mind disintegrate and he’s about to question his friend’s sudden stiffness when he hears a seemingly involuntary gasp and the boy by his side freezes for the second time in minutes. While he doesn’t know why Kyungsoo asked for him to stop humming that song he’s jammed with him a couple of times, Yixing does know the reason for this time’s rigidness. 

 

Chanyeol’s looking up at them. 

 

But as quickly as his head had lifted, eyes darting to the one place a certain boy has always called  _ my haven _ , Chanyeol looks away. And if Lu Han, Yifan, or Zitao have seen the fleeting expression of unimaginable hurt contorting his face, they don’t say anything. As both Lu Han and Zitao fling their arms across the exchange student’s shoulders for possibly the final time and direct him out of the gates, Yifan just looks at where his foreign friend has just glanced at, and he conveys a nonverbal message to the fourth boy whose orbs automatically makes contact with his. 

 

“Don’t worry,” Yixing murmurs to himself. “He’ll be fine.” And as though Kyungsoo knows that the tallest boy of Yixing’s group of buddies has just telepathically conversed with the boy next to him, he whispers a  _ remind me to thank Yifan later _ before tightening his hold around Yixing’s waist as he musters up the remaining bout of courage within him to hold his gaze steadily upon the group walking out of the school compound. His orbs zoom in on one particular boy, and even though he’s not looking back, Kyungsoo knows that he knows that he’s looking at him. Being acquaintances for two months, and boyfriends for almost three assures him of that fact. 

 

So as he watches them stroll, occasionally stopping to make a fool of themselves on the street, Kyungsoo doesn’t look away. His heart hurts, it really does, but while it might contain excruciating pain that he’s been reliving each day for a little more than a week, it’s also full of happy things, both big and small, that’s happened to him since the school’s  current ex-foreign exchange student from South Korea broke up a bully scene he was in. And it’s with this contentment that he’s resigned himself to feel satisfied with, that Kyungsoo easily says the words he’s been waiting to say after all that had happened in a span of seven days.

 

“Goodbye, Chanyeol.”


	2. The Storm

_Kyungsoo stares blankly at his hands, specks of ashes still sticking onto the pads of his fingers. The merciless wind blows at him, whipping his hair around his head and he contemplates snipping them all off when his face gets slapped by them for the umpteenth time. The ashes don’t get blown away, still stuck on his fingertips and Kyungsoo mentally applauds their perseverance, their steeled resolve to remain on his skin, to not be carried away to wherever the gale wants to go._

 

If only I can be like them _, he thinks,_ if only I have their mindset.

 

_His eyes shift their gaze, choosing to look out at the vast, expansive blue space that stretches beyond what his orbs can see. In the horizon, he spies several large ships and wonders for a brief moment as to what it’d be like to be a sailor or a captain, and forget about matters of land, of earth. Would things be different when you’re adrift at sea, surrounded by shades of azure instead of when you’re rooted to the ground, where shades of earth and nature envelop you until you can’t breathe and the only thing, or person, that can comfort you are millions of miles away–_

 

_“Time to go home, Soo.”_

 

_The boy hears a voice and feels warmth beginning to spread on his right arm. He doesn’t need to turn his head to see the person causing such a response from his body; he already knows who he is because hey, seventeen years of friendship is actually a very, very long time. So, he just laughs, his laughter apparently far too bitter for the person who’s sidled up next to him for his expression changes to that of a flinch._

 

_“Home? What home, Xing? I don’t have a home anymore if you haven’t noticed.” His hands are no longer facing up to the skies, dark clouds looming a fair distance away. A storm is due if the relentless gale is any indication. His fingers tighten their grip upon the metal railing that separates him from the ocean, and he’s so tempted to climb over and throw himself into the deep abyss where maybe his grandmother and parents are waiting with opened arms._

 

 _Yixing sees the jerk of his body and he tenses. His fingers uncurl themselves from the railing, ready to move—to_ grab— _should he sense any sign of movement from the boy. From the way he’s on his toes, thin digits gripping the metal, to how his eyes are blank yet so focused on whatever he’s staring at on the sea, Yixing hazards a guess as to what’s on his mind. And if he’s right, he needs to stop him before it’s too late. He needs to bring him back._ Now.

 

_“You have a home, with me,” Yixing hurriedly, but gently, says. “My parents don’t feel safe with you living alone, so I’m moving in.” He turns to him, eyes dragging themselves over the lean frame of the boy who seems to be there physically with him. But Yixing knows: he’s not. And he desperately needs to change that. “You okay with this arrangement?”_

 

 _Yixing thinks that he hears him say a_ yeah sure _, but he can’t be certain because his lips haven’t parted. He’s barely said anything since he arrived at the harbour, arms clutching the urn containing his grandmother’s ashes with so much tenacity that makes Yixing ponder if he’s ready to let go. To release his grandmother into the beckoning, calm waves of blue in accordance with the elderly woman’s will._

 

_“I’m okay with that, Xing,” Kyungsoo finally says after minutes of excruciating silence that stabs at them both. Silence always has been comfortable between them, no matter where and when, but circumstances have changed. They’re no longer three, seven, or fourteen. They’re seventeen, going on to eighteen in a few weeks when the new year arrives and with age comes change whether they like it or not._

 

 _Besides, many things have happened. Many_ unhappy _things have happened and the pair of childhood friends have changed—or maybe it’s only Kyungsoo who did. After all, he’s the one whom those things have happened to and unfortunate matters have a way of changing people in ways unimaginable._

 

_“Since I’m leaving the country once I graduate.”_

  
  


\---

  
  


Seoul’s been nice to him since he arrived. And if you asked Kyungsoo what he loves about this city where his father hailed from (which was his primary reason in choosing this city for his university’s exchange programme [and most definitely _not_ because _he_ lives here]), he’ll tell you three things.

 

One, he loves how Seoul’s weather is predictable; the sun, the rain, the lightning and thunder all within his grasp from the moment he switches on the television for morning news and _would you look at that, it’s going to be sunny today and oh, poor Busan with heavy rain_. The weather forecasts never lets him down, save for a couple of unfortunate moments of jackets in the sun or rain without umbrellas, but that’s alright. At least the weather is _predictable_.

 

Two, he loves how Seoul comes with the _Han_ River and the numerous parks along its banks. He’s been to one of the parks during the first week of his arrival, rented a bicycle and cycled until the sun dipped below the horizon and even though the skies have darkened, Kyungsoo didn’t feel afraid at all. If anything, he only felt cold because _sighs I forgot my sweater_ (yes, that was one of the times where the weather forecasts failed him).

 

Three, he loves, _really_ loves how Seoul serves _kimchi_ in every meal he’s had. He doesn’t have to order many dishes, or order extravagantly to receive such a wonderful side dish and _did I mention it’s refillable and freeflow and oh my god I can eat this forever._ He really can, don’t doubt him, but, please, don’t attribute his obsession love for this delicious locality because of _him_ because no, this preference for the fermented vegetables most definitely did not stem from the fact that a certain someone kept inserting it into phrases (and _ugh fuck just shut up narrator!_ ). Kyungsoo just really likes— _loves_ — _kimchi_ because, perhaps, he could have had it when he was young, or his Korean father might have gotten his Chinese mother to consume it while he was in his mother’s womb. Yeah, that should explain this inexplicable urge to just gorge on the side dish whenever he has a meal.

 

So there you have it, the three things Do Kyungsoo, the exchange student from China, loves about Seoul, South Korea. The abovementioned examples have withstood the test of time, proving to be worthy mentions even though Kyungsoo’s been in the city for a little more than two months. Seoul has been nice to him.

 

Until he receives the utility bill.

 

“Please tell me you’re going to look for a job as well.” Kyungsoo slides a plate of _kimchi_ fried rice across the countertop-slash-dinner-table and a pair of hands successfully catch it before the dish decides to attempt sky table diving. The boy then slides a spoon over and it gets caught as well. “The bills aren’t going to pay themselves anymore.”

 

“Of course they aren’t,” Yixing snorts, bits of rice flying out his mouth and Kyungsoo _tsks_ , reaching over to wipe a corner of his best friend’s dirtied mouth. The boy grins, a hand grabbing his fingers before they return to their owner and to Kyungsoo’s horror, he _licks_ the _kimchi_ sauce off his thumb. Yixing laughs when he sees the shade of crimson flooding his friend’s cheeks but quickly releases his hand when he spies darkening eyes. “And don’t worry, I’ll get a job too but oi, you wouldn’t have bills to worry about if you didn’t move out of your dorm.”

 

Kyungsoo scoffs, “And continue to be at the dorm head’s beck and call? Thanks, but no thanks. Two weeks of suffering is more than enough for a lifetime.” He sees Yixing mouthing something like _drama king_ but he ignores it, earning himself a scathing look which he also ignores. “Besides, if I didn’t move out, you wouldn’t be having _that_ for dinner.”

 

Yixing looks down at his plate of _kimchi_ fried rice. “I’m pretty sure _kimchi_ fried rice is a basic dish every South Korean knows how to prepare, Soo.” Then he looks up at him, a smirk threatening to split his face when he sees how affronted the boy looks. “And also _jjigae_ and _kimch_ –”

 

“Chanyeol most certainly didn’t know how to cook _kimchi_ fried rice though.”

 

A heartbeat later, a sharp gasp slices the silence. Then a muffled curse and Yixing bites on his lower lip as he watches Kyungsoo mentally beat himself up for the slip of his tongue. It’s the first time _his_ name has been mentioned ever since he murmured a _goodbye_ from their high school’s rooftop on the day _his_ exchange programme ended, and that was more than two years ago. For the first few months, though, Yixing had his suspicions that Kyungsoo’s still hung up about him but when he showed no signs of whatever anyone feels after a rough breakup, he assured himself that his best friend is fine.

 

(In fact, Kyungsoo’s more than fine seeing how he graduated in the top five percentile along with him. Then, together they applied for a top university in China and also managed to successfully enrol themselves into one of the school’s many exchange programmes in their second year.

 

Yixing pretends to not notice how Kyungsoo practically lunged for the brochure that states _Seoul, South Korea_ during the seminar.)

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyungsoo whispers a while later, his fingers gripping his spoon so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. His lips are trembling and tears are beginning to form in his eyes and his chest hurts so much and _ugh everything is coming back_ –

 

“Hey. Hey, look at me.”

 

It is as though Yixing’s voice contains a spell, for Kyungsoo obeys without preamble, his head lifting itself and his eyes find his friend’s in an instant. The calm reflected in them soothes him and tames his roaring emotions of fear and sadness into soft, muted mewls. He feels himself calming down, Yixing’s ever-familiar warmth enveloping him and chasing away the chills that accompanied the flood of images shooting through his mind. He doesn’t need to relive his nightmares while he’s awake; not when he’s been seeing them every night.

 

“After dinner, let’s go out and search for jobs together, okay?”

 

The way Yixing so gently says those words puts Kyungsoo at ease, and he finally relaxes, leaning back against the chair. The heels of his palms rub at his eyes as he inhales and exhales deeply in several attempts to regulate his breathing after that almost-breakdown. Kyungsoo hasn’t broken down since _then_ , and he’s not going to let it happen anytime soon. If possible, never.

  


(The pair of childhood friends don’t step out of their shared apartment after dinner, though, because of Yixing’s itchy fingers as they gravitate towards the remote control and he switches on the television and _oh Running Man is on Soo come watch!_

 

Kyungsoo smacks the back of Yixing’s head when the show ends because _ugh instead of looking for the job to pay for the bills, we just wasted electricity and I don’t care, you’re paying for this month’s electricity bill Zhang Yixing!_ )

  
  


\---

  
  


Kyungsoo would have trudged past the hole-in-the-wall beverage joint if not for the humongous paper covering one of the store’s only two glass windows, a bright red _HELP US OUT_ splashed handwritten on it and if Kyungsoo doesn’t know better, he might think that the store is desperate for employees.

 

Unfortunately, he’s right.

 

“Baekhyun, Byun Baekhyun at your service and are you looking for a job because look no further!” Kyungsoo feels that his hand is about to be detached from his wrist if this Baekhyun dude doesn’t stop shaking it. “You’re hire–”

 

A hand pushes Baekhyun’s grinning face ( _is that a square where his lips are supposed to be?_ ) out of Kyungsoo’s sight, though the face that replaces the previous one is no better. Does this beverage joint attract employees with smiling faces so similar to insane people because _um, I don’t think anyone can smile that widely_ ~~_wait what about Chan– SHUT UP BRAIN SHUT UP_ ~~ _._

 

“I’m Joonmyeon, Kim Joonmyeon, and I’m the boss here. Are you here for a walk-in interview for one of our many–”

 

“ _Hyung_ , we only have two positions availab–”

 

“– _shh_ he doesn’t need to know–”

 

 _Um_ , Kyungsoo wants to say, _I’m right here and I can hear your every word._ And at that exact moment, the boy regrets stepping into the joint.

 

“–anyway.” Joonmyeon claps his hands and the sound echoes in the store, its crispness and loudness clearly showing how empty this space is right now. Really, there’s _no one_ (save for the three of them). “I just need to know if you can sing, and if you can play an instrument it’ll definitely help in your application–”

 

“ _Hyung_ , just hire him already.”

 

“–and fine.” The more-serious looking of the two sighs resignedly, missing the smug expression on the other’s face. “You’re hired, but I still want to hear you sing next time.” Junmyeon folds his arms across his chest and looks at Kyungsoo expectantly. The boy just nods and smiles politely, body folding into half as he thanks them both before exiting the joint with a promise of returning with an instrument and maybe another employee.

  


(Joonmyeon watches his shadow until he appears in the non-covered window before returning to the kitchen, his mind trying to return itself into baker mode, Step Ten of making a butter cake resurfacing. He doesn’t forget to bark at Baekhyun to remove the hideous help sign from the window, and Baekhyun mentally swears because _come on, my handwriting isn’t that bad and yah didn’t this_ hideous _piece of paper get them their needed employee?_

 

Unfortunately, it seems that Baekhyun’s boss can read minds for Joonmyeon yells at him, “It’s still fucking ugly, Byun!”

 

Baekhyun risks a middle finger ~~and gets caught~~.)

  
  


\---

  
  


From his spot on the low stage at a corner of the beverage joint, Kyungsoo has a clear view of the counter. Fondness adorns his face as he watches his best friend carefully slide the tray of blueberry muffins into the display shelf, gloved fingers picking up the toppled ones. The fondness grows, causing Kyungsoo’s smile to widen when Yixing arranges the muffins into a heart shape. A soft giggle slips past Kyungsoo’s lips at the sight of a satisfied grin on Yixing’s face.

 

Yixing shuts the door of the display and is about to straighten himself when a figure suddenly rushes behind the counter and effectively scares the bejebus out of the Chinese boy. Yixing lets out a shriek, hands in the air.

 

“Baekhyun!”

 

“It’s _Boxian_ to you,” Baekhyun says, a smile on his face and his svelte index playfully tap the tip of Yixing’s nose, much to the Chinese boy and Kyungsoo’s horror. Kyungsoo feels his protectiveness of his best friend bubbling, hands leaving the microphone stand. He’s about to step off the stage when he hears Yixing groan. The boy slaps a gloved hand to his forehead and he winces when the latex sticks to his skin. Kyungsoo is already at the counter by the time the glove unsticks itself from Yixing’s forehead.

 

The rectangular grin on Baekhyun’s face is something Kyungsoo very much wants to slap off because _it’s fucking annoying._

 

According to Byun Baekhyun (“ _It’s Bian Boxian!_ ”) himself, it had been love at first sight. From the moment he saw from the corners of his eyes the door opening and Baekhyun had redirected his attention from his nails (“ _There was absolutely no one to serve!_ ”) to the figures entering the joint, right up to the three seconds that it took for Kyungsoo to introduce his friend and possible employee, Baekhyun’s eyes have never left Yixing. Never. Not even when Joonmyeon had nudged him in the ribs to introduce himself and the smitten Korean just let out a dreamy sigh that, obviously, caught everyone off-guard.

 

And of course, everyone—yes, even Yixing—knew then that Byun Baekhyun has developed a crush on the joint’s newest employee, Zhang Yixing.

 

“You most certainly don’t understand or even speak Chinese,” Yixing calmly (or he tries to) says as he slides in the tray of chocolate chip muffins right next to the blueberry ones. He rearranges them into a heart as well. “So why are you bothering to try?”

 

Baekhyun raises a brow, seemingly surprised at Yixing’s question, but he replies in a heartbeat. “Because you speak Chinese, Xing, and I’m trying to befriend you. Besides, I’ve been meaning to learn Chin–”

 

Kyungsoo thumps a clenched fist down on the counter; the sound startles both Yixing and Baekhyun. “Don’t lie without even batting your eyelids, Byun. I can totally tell that you’re _lying_.”

 

Baekhyun pouts, and both Kyungsoo and Yixing roll their eyes. Been there, done that because, in the past week of working at the beverage joint, Baekhyun’s pouts are what they see (or try not to see) for ninety-five percent of their shifts. Oh wait, make it _ninety-nine_ percent for Yixing.

 

“I am most certainly not lying! How could I– _Why_ would I lie to Yixing?” He darts his eyes to the Chinese and Kyungsoo thinks he sees disappointment washing over Baekhyun when Yixing quickly turns to walk to the bin to throw his gloves away. A downcast expression forms on Baekhyun’s face, and he softly mutters, “I wouldn’t lie to Yixing, I wouldn’t…”

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to feel when he sees this scene before him, and feels obliged to say something to Baekhyun because _somehow I feel like I’ve done something wrong???_ Thankfully, Kyungsoo doesn’t have to.

 

“Stop bothering my employees before I fire you, Byun.”

 

Joonmyeon walks out of the kitchen then, his apron in his hands as he wipes them with it. The scent of cinnamon wafts out together with him and his three employees simultaneously and instinctively inhale, a collective sigh of innocent satisfaction following shortly after. Joonmyeon chuckles at that.

 

Baekhyun wakes up from his stupor, shaking his head slightly before saying, rather scathingly, “Why am I the one getting fired when I’ve been working so hard and am I not one of _your employees_?”

 

Kyungsoo snorts loudly and Baekhyun shoots him a glare, which he, of course, ignores. Yixing swallows a cough of his own and promptly decides to rearrange the trays of cookies situated above the muffins instead of returning the gaze that he feels on him. No way is he going to give Baekhyun any more time of his shift; Joonmyeon might think that he’s lazing on his job and no, he can’t have that. Zhang Yixing has bills to pay and fraternising with the enemy (ie, _Byun_ ) isn’t going to help him at all. So, no, let’s keep those eyes on the cookies.

 

“Because I’ve got Kyungsoo as my singer, and Yixing as my barista and yes–” Joonmyeon holds up a hand to halt Baekhyun whose mouth has opened, a retort clearly at his lips. “–even though you can do what they’re doing, you suck at those jobs.”

 

Both Kyungsoo and Yixing openly give their (sassy) boss a low-five each, and a delighted, strangled gurgle slip past their lips when Joonmyeon returns them, causing Baekhyun’s jaw to drop to the floor.

 

“For your information, _Kim Joonmyeon-sshi_ ,” says Baekhyun after he picks up his jaw. “I may not be especially adept at making beverages but you have to admit that I possess a marvellous voice.” He folds his arms across his chest, a smug smile creeping onto his face.

 

“Yeah, and look where that got us. A month of business and I haven’t even called for a refill of our coffee beans.”

 

(Joonmyeon attacks with cold hard truth!

 

Baekhyun faints and is unable to battle!

 

 ~~Send out next Pokemon?~~ )

 

Baekhyun seethes at that factual snippet but decides to find solace in a very unwilling Yixing who, for the first time since he started work, displays a negative set of expressions and shoots his boss a murderous glare. Startled, Joonmyeon slowly backs away and scarpers back into the kitchen where his cinnamon muffins await.

  
  


\---

  
  


A lanky dude sprints down the hallway. He’s late for his first class of the day, and he mentally laments the fact that he shouldn’t have dismissed his best friend’s warning of staying up to compose his _beloved music_. But then again, who the hell wants to wake up for an 8AM lecture which would no doubt send its students right back to sleep?

 

Not Chanyeol. And apparently not anybody for when Chanyeol finally makes it to the lecture hall with seconds to spare and skids to a screeching stop at the door, he doesn’t see a single soul (save for the elderly lecturer setting up his computer) in the space. Bless his like-minded coursemates. And bless his mind when it tells him to hightail and get the fuck out of there, which Chanyeol does and moments later he finds himself running through the hallways again, heading towards the library.

 

He doesn’t make it.

 

The sound of books dropping onto the floor echoes in the empty hallway and Chanyeol hisses in pain. He hears soft mumbles of apologies but pays no heed to them, choosing to nurse his aching buttcheeks and searing palms instead, feeling an uneasy sense of deja vu, until–

 

“Chanyeol? Park Chanyeol?”

 

–a familiar voice snaps him out of his daze and Chanyeol promptly looks up, only to break into a wide grin of disbelief and utter delight. The pain in his buttock and palms are all but forgotten when he jumps up and literally launches himself at a friend he hasn’t seen for a long time.

 

“W-Woah, slow down!” Yixing laughs, as he grapples with the fact that he has an armful of Chanyeol after having not seen his buddy for more than two years. He would have gladly allowed his Korean friend to continue hugging him, but Chanyeol seems to be purposefully blowing puffs of air at his neck in between his giggles, so Yixing roughly manhandles the taller male away from his sensitive self. “Looks like you haven’t forgotten my weakness, huh, Chanyeol-sshi.”

 

Chanyeol smirks, waving a hand dismissively before joining Yixing on the floor as they pick up Yixing’s books. His brows furrow when he reads the titles, withholding the last book as he curiously asks Yixing, “Linguistics? Since when were you interested in languages? Weren’t you always the science kind of guy, Xing?”

 

Yixing perks up at the friendly endearment slipping past Chanyeol’s lips, as though the two years of separation never happened, but he finds himself trapped by Chanyeol’s question, so he just shrugs and honestly (he tries to be) replies, “They’re for a friend, and yeah, I’m still all sciencey.” He grabs the book from Chanyeol and gives him a knowing smile.

 

Chanyeol returns the smile with a dubious look, but quickly thinks nothing of Yixing’s pointedly obvious discomfort and instead invites the Chinese for breakfast. “There’s this joint I always frequent if I feel like skipping classes,” Chanyeol casually says, the twitching corners of his lips telling Yixing that he’s actually a little proud of missing classes which just causes the latter to shake his head and crack a smile.

  
  


\---

  
  


Kyungsoo should have known.

 

From the moment consciousness flooded him and his eyes flew open, a wave of dread had washed over him, filling him with a strong gut feeling that he shouldn’t report to work today. _Something bad will happen_ , his gut had warned, _something bad is going to happen_. But Kyungsoo believed none of it, and, well, look where that got him.

 

“I swear I didn’t know he was going to bring me here.”

 

Kyungsoo turns to look at his best friend, a frown threatening his neutral expression when he sees how terribly guilty Yixing looks. He sighs and reaches up to Yixing’s eyes, index finger wiping away the welling tears and he _tsks_ when a single droplet eludes his ministrations. Yixing hands him a piece of tissue he had blindly grabbed from the counter, and Kyungsoo gently wipes away the tear streaks. “I’m not blaming you, Xing. In fact, I haven’t even said anything but you’ve already come and cried on me.” He lowers the tissue from Yixing’s face. “And, it’s not your fault.”

 

“But it kind of is…” Yixing whimpers, sucking on his bottom lip to chew on it as he winds his arms around his best friend. He leans against him, the added weight causing Kyungsoo to rest his hip against the counter to stabilise himself, and Yixing drops his head onto Kyungsoo’s shoulder. “I should have watched where I was going…”

 

Kyungsoo reciprocates with his own arms circling Yixing’s waist, and his fingers gently tap at the hem of his shirt. “You were rounding a corner, and we both know how bad you are with corners seeing how you’ve failed those numerous driving tests where you’re always penalised when it comes to turning corners.” He pats his best friend’s butt sympathetically, eliciting a muffled whine from the boy…

 

… which is clearly heard by the two occupants at the joint’s only-occupied table. Baekhyun’s biting the sleeve of his shirt, eyes heating up as he continues to glare at the hand resting on his love’s beautiful ass. He hopes that it will combust with every passing second his heated gaze is fixated upon it, then that gorgeous buttcheek will be his for the taking and _heh heh heh what shall I do–_

 

“Are they dating?”

 

 _–wha?_ Baekhyun snaps out of his daze and glances at the person sitting next to him. He stifles a cough when he sees narrowed eyes and coloured cheeks. _How jealous_ , Baekhyun thinks with a roll of his eyes. _How pathetically jealous_. (If only he realises that he had looked like that just seconds before as well.) “No, they’re not and never will be because, for the record, Zhang Yixing is _mine_.” And he reverts his eyes back to Yixing’s ass, sighing wistfully.

 

Then Baekhyun does a double take.

 

“Wait, why are you asking that? Do you like Yixing too because there’s _no way in hell are you getting him_ and oh my god is that why you brought him here because you _knew_ that I’m working in the morning and you wanted to show off how easily you got him to agree to have breakfast with you and–”

 

“I don’t like Yixing that way, you dumbass.”

 

“–you spawn of satan– _huh_ ?” Baekhyun stops, inhaling deeply to make up for the non-stop rant before fully turning his body to face the person. “You don’t like Yixing _that_ way…?”

 

A scoff. “Never did, though I did think of kidnapping him back with me when I returned to Seoul two years back.”

 

Baekhyun gapes at him, but recovers quickly with a scoff of his own. “Well, you should have.” And his friend rolls his eyes but darts back to the embracing pair of childhood friends at the counter, his countenance darkening once more. Baekhyun looks on, eyes flitting between the three figures, and his mind (clever, but he looks otherwise; _hey!_ ) puts two and two together. An overly exaggerated gasp breaks the silence, causing both Kyungsoo and Yixing to glance over as well as the person who gives him a confused expression.

 

“He’s the one who broke your heart, Chanyeol-ah.”

  
  


\---

  
  


_The voice of Taeyeon rouses a boy from his sleep and for a few moments he thinks he’s imagining his favourite_ noona _’s wonderful voice when another voice he’s unable to recognise in his sleepy state follows, and that’s when he hears the vibration muffled by the ladies’ singing. Baekhyun scrubs a hand over his face before reaching over to his phone on the bedside table, and he curses under his breath when a name he hasn’t seen appear on his phone in almost half a year blinking up at him._

 

_“Do you know what time it is, Park Cha–”_

 

_“I’m never going to like another person ever again!”_

 

_“–n– What?” Chanyeol’s yell wakes Baekhyun up, his bleary eyes flying open and he jams his phone closer to his ear to make out his friend’s incoherent babbling. “W-Wait, slow down, Yeol! I can’t hear what you’re saying and– Are you crying?”_

 

_A loud and clear sob gives Baekhyun his answer, and immediately his motherly mode switches on. “Chanyeol…”_

 

 _“I– I’m never going to trust people anymore!” Chanyeol snaps, sniffles and choked sobs interrupting his words and Baekhyun silently prays for God to heighten his sense of hearing because_ really I can’t hear his words at all _. “They’re all so selfish and stuck-up and liars, fucking liars that’s what they are those fuc–”_

 

_“I need to hear a reason as to why you’re cursing, Yeol.” Baekhyun gently says, a hand propping a pillow against the headboard and he lays back on it, expression softening as the pillow envelops his aching back. Facing high school without your best friend is a bitch towards your physical and mental health. Thankfully, those days are almost over for his best friend’s returning in a few days. “You rarely swear at all, so what brought this on?”_

 

_He hears Chanyeol exhale, as though he’s trying to calm down and compose himself, and Baekhyun chews on his lower lip because he knows now how terribly unstable his best friend must be feeling. Chanyeol doesn’t swear if he can help it, not even when he’s extremely pissed and feels that people deserve the f-word. So if he’s using it… he must have been hit hard._

 

_“He didn’t turn up.”_

 

 _“Who– Ah,” Baekhyun quickly corrects himself when the faceless identity of the boy his best friend’s been_ ~~_drooling_ ~~ _gushing about in their weekly Skype chats swims into his mind. “That boy you’ve been talking about.” He visualises Chanyeol nodding his head when silence begins to fill the call with its presence, and Baekhyun shakes his head when Chanyeol’s sniffles begin to mar the tranquillity. “What did he not turn up for?”_

 

_“I… asked him out to explain something that happened a few days ago, something that… caused us to fight and…” Chanyeol’s barely audible voice trails off into silence and Baekhyun mentally groans at that, but still, he coaxes his friend to continue. “And…?”_

 

_“... we broke up. We broke up, Hyun.”_

 

_Baekhyun inhales sharply. He hadn’t meant to hear that. He hadn’t meant for Chanyeol to say it out. He feels bad for coaxing him now, really bad. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Yeol– I–”_

 

 _“It’s alright,” Chanyeol exhales deeply, the resign so evidently heard. “I just didn’t expect that to happen to us that’s all because he looks so… decent. Yeah, he looks so_ decent _and innocent despite all that happened to him, but apparently not.” A bitter laugh. “Anyway, I wanted to ask him to explain why he did what he did. Gave him a time, a place and I waited like a damn fool until now and it’s fucking raining and still, he hasn’t turned up and_ god _, I feel so fucking stupid right now!”_

 

_Chanyeol’s screaming, his breaths hurried and ragged and even though he’s thousands of miles away, Baekhyun thinks he faintly hears his best friend’s frustrated yell right in his bedroom. He wants to ask the single question that popped up in his head but declines to do so until he’s made sure that Chanyeol’s calmed down. Baekhyun feels really helpless, unable to do anything but offer words of comfort for his raging friend, hoping that the rain at wherever Chanyeol is contains some sort of calming potion that would somehow seep into his friend and just… make him stop._

 

_Make him stop beating himself up over something that he has no control over._

 

 _It seems as though hours have passed since Baekhyun picked up the call, but in reality, it’s only been a little over ten minutes. Yet in these ten minutes, Baekhyun feels the strong urge to fly over and bring his best friend home, back to South Korea and far, far away from China. He feels guilty too, for goading Chanyeol to sign up for their high school’s exchange programme._ If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have to deal with this bullshit right now.

 

_“You alright now, Yeol?”_

 

_“... Yeah.”_

 

 _Baekhyun shuts his eyes and silently mutters a_ thank you  _to whichever god has been listening to his silent prayers and pleas. “You sure you’re okay?”_

 

_“I am, Hyun.”_

 

 _“Okay,” Baekhyun says, his tone holding more weight than before and even though he thinks it’s for the benefit of letting Chanyeol know that his best friend is calm and composed, Baekhyun knows otherwise—it’s more of for him to reassure himself that Chanyeol’s really_ fine _. “I’m going to just ask you one more question, then I want you to head home and sleep like a pig until you feel like waking up, okay?”_

 

 _He takes the silence as a_ yes _._

 

_“What did he do to you?”_

 

_Chanyeol still remains silent, and just when Baekhyun thinks he’s not listening and is about to hang up he hears his best friend croak, and that’s the last straw. Baekhyun’s heart finally shatters into a million pieces, just like Chanyeol’s facade as he bursts into tears once again._

 

_“Our relationship was nothing but a bet.”_

  
  


\---

  
  


“I know I look like shit so shut up.”

 

Yixing quickly closes his opened mouth and places a piping hot cup of tea in front of his best friend who slinks into the kitchen and settles himself into one of the only two chairs at the dining table. He rests a cheek on the table surface, ignoring the beverage he always inhales during mornings to look at his best friend who’s busying himself with a pot on the stove.

 

“I _know_ that you look like shit, but I don’t know _why_. So, may I?” Yixing asks.

 

“No. You may not.”

 

Yixing sighs, and from the abrupt slump in his posture Kyungsoo knows that his friend is wondering why he’d even bothered asking; Kyungsoo wonders why, too, when Yixing already knows how he would answer.

 

Chewing on his lips and staring absentmindedly at the cup, Kyungsoo ponders. His best friend _knows_ exactly why he looks like shit. Kyungsoo has looked like this so many times in the past, especially in the months after _his_ departure, that its appearance shouldn’t even be shocking any longer. Yixing should have understood that nightmares never do go away even after the cause of them has.

 

That thought has Kyungsoo shuddering, and he desperately needs to distract himself from emotions that he doesn’t want to relive build inside of him. Moving the cup carefully out of the way, Kyungsoo takes in Yixing’s back view, eyes silently raking over his back, fingers suddenly itching to put the strap of his tank back onto his shoulder. The boy’s back muscles flex and ripple with every movement of his arms as he stirs the pot, and it is then does Kyungsoo suddenly thinks of it.

 

“Why didn’t we ever think of dating each other, Xing?”

 

He sits up, knuckles propping his chin, and he brings his legs up onto the chair before wrapping his arms around them. There’s the _clack_ of the stove button, and Yixing’s whirling around with the pot in his hands. He sets it on the table, atop of a large cork coaster, and Kyungsoo instantly brightens up at the sight of the bubbling, piping hot porridge.

 

Yixing sits across him, and Kyungsoo watches him ladle one bowl of porridge, placing it in front of him before he does the same for his own. It is then does Yixing reply with an unreadable expression.

 

“Because we’re best friends, Soo, and best friends don’t date each other. Besides, even if I could, I wouldn’t want to date _you_.”

 

The undecipherable expression on his face dissolves, then Yixing shoots Kyungsoo a small smile that tells him everything that the boy doesn’t say. Moments later, the realisation dawns on him.

 

“Holy shit.”  

 

Kyungsoo fixes his amused eyes on his best friend who glances up, a spoon in his mouth. “I didn’t know that you aren’t straight.”

 

Yixing chokes, hand flying up to his mouth much too late to prevent porridge from spitting out. Kyungsoo’s unfazed by that disgusting act (because he’s guilty of it plenty of times), and leans forward. The (manic) glint in his eyes scares Yixing, making him lean backwards in wariness.

 

“Does this mean that Baekhyun stands a chance?”

 

Yixing blanches.

  
  


\---

  
  


Baekhyun sneezes.

 

“Didn’t your parents teach you to cover your nose and mouth when you sneeze?”

 

Baekhyun looks up, his index finger in the midst of rubbing his nose. At the sight of his best friend, he rolls his eyes. Blame his unfortunate luck for sneezing at the exact same time Chanyeol has to come up to the counter to purchase a peanut butter muffin. (For some reason, the beverage joint had been bustling minutes before, people buying their muffins left and right. Baekhyun almost wished he had called in sick because, by the time the crowd left, he’s so certain he’s _sick_ of saying muffins because _blueberry muffins raspberry and cheese muffins fucking muff_ – And, yeah, Baekhyun just kind of really hate muffins right now.)

 

He inhales deeply through his nose, smirking when Chanyeol backs away a little, disgust clearly etched on his face. Baekhyun hums good-naturedly, thankful that there’s no snot in his nose. He doesn’t want to know that he’s caught a cold, not when he _finally_ has three consecutive night shifts with his gorgeous and wonderful Yixing and _oh my imagine the fun things we’d do together like cleaning, mopping, sweepin–_

 

“You’re sure that he’s not working today.”

 

– _and–_ Baekhyun snaps out of his reverie, moony eyes immediately narrowing into cranky slits. “For the last time, _Park Chanyeol_ , Kyungsoo’s not working today. And neither is he working tomorrow or the day after.” And Baekhyun resists the strong urge to throw a punch at his best friend when Chanyeol has the nerve to roll his eyes as though he’s undeserving of Baekhyun’s sharp tone.

 

“Good. Then I’d like to have another cup of iced Americano and peanut butter muffin.” Chanyeol orders, hands digging into his bag for his wallet. When he emerges with it, he’s fairly surprised to see that Baekhyun’s barely moved, except for that unimpressed frown on his face. Chanyeol sighs, “Please, and thank you.”

 

“That’s more like it.”

 

Chanyeol raises his fist and fakes a hit at Baekhyun when the barista turns around to prepare his beverage. He doesn’t deserve the shade his best friend’s dumped on him. He’s been suffering enough, what with the never-ending pile of uni assignments that threatens his sanity every single day, and now he has to deal with the appearance of his ex-boyfriend ( _ugh_ ) after two whole years of no contact. Chanyeol doesn’t want to deal with that, he really doesn’t want to because it’ll just reopen the wound he’d tried so fucking hard to close. He already feels the stitching beginning to loosen, and all it needs is the pull, the _trigger_ to get it unravelling.

 

He doesn’t want that, doesn’t need that to happen. Chanyeol _really_ doesn’t need the fucking wound to reopen right now.

 

“By the way.” Baekhyun whirls around after the third minute (Chanyeol keeps count, and annoyingly wonders why the _trained_ barista needs to take that long to fill a cup with coffee and ice.) and practically slams the cup onto the counter. Thankfully, the lid on the cup saves the beverage from sloshing onto the surface, and Chanyeol reconsiders his decision to pay for the coffee (and the terrible attitude of the server) but Baekhyun snatches the cash out of his fingers before he can retract his hand. “What are you going to do about Kyungsoo?”

 

Chanyeol freezes. “Wh–”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re not planning revenge on him?” Baekhyun slams the cash register shut, the sound of it echoing around the empty (as always) beverage joint and Chanyeol’s faintly surprised to see Joonmyeon not stalking out to chide his employee for his harsh treatment towards store property. Not that Employee Byun cares anyway. But, unfortunately, based on two decades of knowing him, Employee Byun always cares for the inappropriate matters. Such as the non-existent revenge plan that Chanyeol’s supposed to have devised.  

 

“I… I’m not,” Chanyeol stammers, not sure why he’s avoiding the shocked gaze of his best friend, choosing to stare at his condensing iced Americano instead. Those condensation stains are going to be a pain to clean off that acrylic surface later; he better excuse his guilty self before Baekhyun or whoever gets round to wiping it. “Why do I have to exact revenge on him anyway? We’ve broken up, done, _over_ , and I want nothing to do with him.”

 

Baekhyun notices his best friend clenching his fists, but doesn’t comment on them. He also doesn’t say anything about Chanyeol’s wandering gaze, looking at everywhere but at him.

 

“But he destroyed your trust, broke your heart once, then broke his promise and broke your heart another time. Then he broke your heart for the _third_ time, and not to mention mine too when he hugged Yixing so tightly the other day. Really, who the fuck does he think he is?”

 

Chanyeol’s shaking by then, because _fuck_ , the wound has been ruthlessly slashed open (forget about pulling on the stitching) by Baekhyun’s terrible diction and insensitivity, causing him to relive whatever’s gushing out from the huge gash. He shuts his eyes and— _ugh bad decision_ —because in the darkness he sees everything so much more clearly. It is as though Chanyeol’s a photographer, developing images in his dark room, and when he holds them up to the light, he sees the scenes he’s captured with his camera. It’s no different from what’s happening in his mind, and he desperately wants it to stop. He doesn’t want nightmares again, not when he’s finally, _finally_ stopped having them a few months ago.

 

Shockingly, it stops. The vehement shaking gradually, but quickly, reduces to trembling the instant a new emotion washes over him and as though he’s received some form of edict from someone above (ie, his brain), Chanyeol slams his palms onto the counter, the loud sound reverberating throughout the joint, and shoves his face right at Baekhyun’s frightened one. He sees the fear in his best friend’s eyes, and momentarily softens at that but regains his steeled demeanour. “I want it,” he growls.

 

“I want revenge.”

 

Baekhyun smirks. “Now you’re talking, bestie.”

  


(“Ah, have you thought of one?”

 

“Not yet, but I’m working on it. Give me, say, two days?”

 

“Sure, Hyun, take as long as you need.”

 

A whack, then an accused yelp. “I can’t take long, you nimwit! They’re leaving in less than four months!”

 

“What!?”

 

“And besides, why am _I_ the one thinking when it’s _your_ revenge plan!”

 

“Because you’re my best friend.” Silence. “And I love you.”

 

“Stop it. Don’t make me throw all these muffins at you because trust me, I currently hate them enough to do it.”)

  
  


\---

  
  


The bell hung on the door rings, and a sigh softly comes from the barista on shift. _Damn, a customer._

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t want to stop while he’s in the middle of refilling the caramel sauce bottles. But he knows he has to, otherwise, Boss Joonmyeon might decide to come out of his cave kitchen and things wouldn’t be pretty. So it’s with half-heartedness ( _I swear I will murder the customer if this packet topples and spills_ ) that he carefully places the opened packet of brown gooey substance into a bowl before turning around to greet his customer.

 

“How may I–” Kyungsoo gasps then, a hand flying up to his chest in the next second, clearly showing his shock. Yet, a split second later, an unreadable expression form on his face and Kyungsoo monotonously continues his greeting. “–help you.”

 

The customer is smiling but not ordering.

 

Kyungsoo waits, fingers twitching to move his hands away from the counter and to fold his arms across his chest. Yet, his mind _helpfully_ supplies that a defensive position probably wouldn’t help the situation. Heck, _nothing_ will help this fucking awkward situation. And so, Kyungsoo just waits (while his mind keeps floating back to the bowl of caramel sauce, praying for the packet to not flop over and— _god forbid_ —spill.)

 

Across the counter, the customer seems to be struggling with something. The corners of their lips are twitching, the smile threatening to slip off. Fingers are gripped a little tighter around bag straps, causing their knuckles to turn white. And Kyungsoo mentally curses himself when he kind of identifies that look of constipation on the customer’s face to be that of a nervous expression he’s seen far too many times over a three-month period. Two years ago. In China.

 

“Are you going to order?”

 

“Um, yes.” The customer’s eyes dart upwards to the menu, and Kyungsoo wishes he wasn’t looking at the customer’s face. For the instant those eyes rested on the handwritten menu above the counter, realisation fills them. Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he feels nervous as well, why he feels a little _afraid_ when the customer was about to look up. But as much as he says that he doesn’t know, Kyungsoo _does_ know.

 

The menu was written by him, a job entrusted to him after Boss Joonmyeon discovered his _oh my god such beautiful and neat handwriting_. Despite all that has happened in the recent years, if there’s something about Kyungsoo that hasn’t changed, it’s his handwriting.

 

Chanyeol _still_ remembers his handwriting.

 

If so, does this mean that Kyungsoo felt nervous, felt afraid because of something related to the recognition of his handwriting? Was the nervousness, perhaps, him anticipating that Chanyeol would remember? And the fear because of the possibility of him not remembering? Kyungsoo doesn’t know how to feel about… that. So, he doesn’t.   

 

“If I may, how about a cup of hot green tea and a slice of cheesecake?”

 

Those are words that Kyungsoo just rattle off without thinking. But as soon as he registers what he has just spoken, a sharp inhale fills the empty (as always) space and Kyungsoo immediately slaps his hands over his mouth, eyes round with surprise and regret.

 

“You…” Chanyeol brings one hand down from his straps to point a shaky finger at him. “You remember…?”

 

In that instant, as Kyungsoo sees the way Chanyeol’s face light up, _his_ fear grows. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Kyungsoo wasn’t supposed to unconsciously blurt out Chanyeol’s usual order at beverage joints. Kyungsoo wasn’t supposed to even _fucking remember._

 

Kyungsoo wasn’t supposed to be in the same space as Chanyeol. Ever.

 

But it seems that the people above just _love_ to torment him, to make him suffer. While most people would lament the usual line of _haven’t I suffered enough!?_ , Kyungsoo just resigns himself to his fate, to his special line of _my life is destined for suffering_. In the midst of chastising himself, Kyungsoo feels his eyes darkening and he allows his hands to slowly slide back down to the counter. He forces himself to calm down and tweaks his tone to be cautious and controlled. “Would you like to order that?”

 

“Yes, okay. I’ll take your recommendations.”

 

Kyungsoo just nods at that, eyes having already dropped from Chanyeol’s face. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with this… person any longer. He’s already been dealing with him for the past two years, each time he closes his eyes to go to sleep only to wake up in the next moment when images of _him_ fill his mind without fail.

 

Chanyeol already haunts his dreams, his nightmares. Kyungsoo doesn’t need him to haunt him in reality, too. He really doesn’t.

  
  


\---

  
  


Suddenly, from next to him, Kyungsoo receives a paper. Turning his head slightly to the right, he sees Yixing stabbing a finger at the words he’s written in pencil. Kyungsoo reads the words and seconds later, a hushed, resigned sigh escapes him but before he can say anything, Yixing points to the paper again. Kyungsoo gives up. Moments later, he slides the paper back.

 

// _Why write when I can just tell you? You’re wasting my ink, Xing._ //

 

Yixing shoots Kyungsoo a glare and receives a half-hearted shrug in return. He lightly shoves Kyungsoo’s shoulder, only to have a soft hiss slipping out of his lips when Kyungsoo’s retaliation causes Yixing’s hand to drag an ugly line across the paper. He quickly erases it.

 

// _Because we’re in a library, and oi, I only asked you ‘What’s wrong?’ and you decided to reply with so many words?_ //

 

Kyungsoo scoffs, writes his reply.

 

// _It’ll be so much easier to just_ tell _you._ //

 

// _Summarise, then._ //

 

The paper doesn’t get returned to Yixing until several minutes later despite the request he’s asked him. Kyungsoo knows that summaries shouldn’t take that long to be done, but he doesn’t know how he could summarise. Then, suddenly, he gets it. Kyungsoo writes two Korean characters. A name.

 

// _What did he do?_ //

 

Yixing’s quick reply is the question Kyungsoo has been dreading since his best friend started this whole shenanigan of passing messages. But as much as he doesn’t want to tell, Yixing deserves to know. He’s his best friend, and… the only family left. If Kyungsoo doesn’t tell him, who else can he tell?

 

// _He… asked me for my number. He wants to know when I’ll be available for a meal. He thinks I don’t have a brain but I know he’s trying to be friends again. The thing is, I don’t understand why. Why does he want to befriend me again when all I’ve caused him is pain?_ //

 

Kyungsoo chews on his lips as he watches Yixing read, read, read, and read– Ugh, it’s taking far too long and Kyungsoo lets out a soft whine before snatching the paper back without getting a reply.

 

// _What is his motive? What does he want from me, Xing, what does he want?_ //

 

Kyungsoo knows that exasperation is defining his facial features. His face is telling Yixing how afraid, how confused he is. And although he isn’t expecting Yixing to be of help to him, the reply that he receives from the boy is devastating.

 

// _I don’t know, Soo. I don’t know._ //

  
  


\---

  
  


_Kyungsoo drops to his knees, arms coming up to wrap themselves around his shivering body as he lets out a loud, anguished wail. It should have caused the households surrounding the clock tower to yell curses back at him but, fortunately, the rain drowns it out completely._

 

_The ominously dark clouds are merciless, ruthless in their wake as they unleash large, fat water droplets upon the land they’ve chosen to visit in the night. The navy sky is the perfect camouflage for them. None of the land’s citizens will know what’s about to happen until it hits them. Kyungsoo’s one of them, having foregone an umbrella as he dashes out of his apartment. He almost forgets to lock the door and has to double back to do so. He curses himself, berates himself for losing even more precious time._

 

_Yet, all those don’t matter because when he finally sees the clock tower in sight, the person whom he’s expecting to see isn’t there. A statement that his grandmother used to say on a daily basis swims into his mind then, but he shakes it away because something negative is beginning to stir within him. So he summons his positivity, absolutely refusing to believe his eyes._

 

The rain’s too heavy, I can’t see properly _, Kyungsoo thinks._ It’s too far, I should go closer.

 

 _And he walks towards the clock tower, walks_ around _it even, hands shielding his eyes as he squints at the path he’s walking on, cups his hands around his eyes into binoculars while he tries to look out beyond._

 

_There’s nothing. There’s nobody sharing the space with him. There’s no one._

 

_He’s alone._

 

 _It’s then do the tears that have been welling up in his eyes fall. Kyungsoo hadn’t known of their existence, mistaking the reason for his gradually-blurring vision as the downpour that beats upon him without a care. His tears join the rain in sliding down his face, his neck, wetting the front of his shirt. He’s soaked, utterly soaked and should wind decide to join the party, he would surely catch a devastating cold but Kyungsoo doesn’t care. He only cares about the fact that_ he’s _not here._

 

He said that he would be here, that he would wait no matter how long he has to so where, _where is he_?

 

 _No one answers him but the_ plips _and the_ plops _of the seemingly never-ending downpour. They entertain his sense of hearing for a short moment, providing a form of solace for the boy with their constant landing on the pavement, but, ultimately, the white noise isn’t enough to drown the silence that Kyungsoo still hears above it. His wracked sobs soon bombard and disturb the tranquillity, and even though they’re soft at first, they slowly build up in volume, and it’s not long before Kyungsoo hears them loud and clear._

 

_Fucking loud and clear._

 

_The rain's still falling. Large, fat, heavy droplets beating upon his body. Kyungsoo shivers and shivers some more even though no wind is gracing the land with its presence tonight. He’s cold, yes—as with anyone who gets caught in the rain—but he’s not shivering because of something as trivial as that. It’s entirely something else. That something grasping his heart, gripping it, letting go, then gripping it again as if his heart is a squeeze toy._

 

 _But it isn’t. His heart isn’t a fucking squeeze toy. It’s real, it’s living, it keeps Kyungsoo_ alive _. It’s the mark of him still living but as of now, right now, when he feels as though it’s about to be ripped out from his chest, can Kyungsoo still think of himself as a living human being then?_

 

_He regards himself as a zombie. From the moment he stepped into his apartment after a day of school and received the greatest shock of his life, Kyungsoo has transformed into a mindless zombie. Even now, as he kneels on his knees after letting out the most anguished cry he can muster, Kyungsoo’s still a zombie. He’s running purely on instincts, his body telling him what to do instead of his brain. His legs bark at him to run, he runs; his hands tell him to grab at his shoulders, he does it._

 

_His heart tells him to grieve, and Kyungsoo grieves with all that he has because, in just one night, he loses everything he’s come to know._

 

_In just one night, he loses two persons whom he loves with all his life._

 

_And as he continues to allow his grief to pour out of him with each incoherent sob, Kyungsoo loses one more._

 

_He loses himself._

  


_(Time waits for no one._

 

_Kyungsoo finally allows his grandmother’s statement to resurface as he steps into the room next to his, his red-rimmed, swollen eyes resting on the only person in the space. He keeps his arms close to himself, fingers not daring to stretch out to touch, but he gives in a moment later. Slipping his hand into another, Kyungsoo takes in the wrinkles, the numerous folds of skin on the hand. He also takes in the warmth, feels the warmth emanated from the person because it’s the last time he’s ever going to feel it. In a few hours, he’ll never feel warmth from the person ever again._

 

_Time… really waits for no one.)_

  
  


\---

  
  


“Hot green tea, and one slice of cheesecake. Thank you!”

 

“Here’s your change.”

 

“You… haven’t given me your number, Kyungsoo.”

 

“I don’t believe I have to.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“Hot green tea and a slice–”

 

“Here’s your change.”

 

“You still don’t want to let me know your phone number, Kyungsoo?”

 

“Yes, I still don’t want to.”

 

“Oh. Alright.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“Hot green–”

 

“Here, your change.”

 

“Phone number…?”

 

A sigh. “No, I’m not giving it to you.”

 

“O–” A pause. “Why not?”

 

Silence, with the rustling of a green tea packet and the tinkle of ceramic. “There’s no reason.”

 

“There’s always a reason for everything.”

 

“Well, in this case, there’s simply no reason at all.”

 

“I don’t believe you. There _has_ to be something, and that something is holding you back from giving me your number.” A brief pause. “Don’t make me ask it from Yixing.”

 

“Go ahead. I have absolute trust in him that he won’t give it to you.” A rather loud slam. “Now, take your purchases and scoot. I have sauce bottles to refill.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“Thanks for agreeing to meet me on such a short notice, Xing.”

 

Yixing shakes his head, a smile brightening up his face as his ex-buddy slides into the chair opposite his. Chanyeol’s eyes widen the moment he sees Yixing push a container towards him.

 

“Is this… Is this what I think it is…?”

 

The incredulity in Chanyeol’s tone cracks Yixing up, the smile spreading wider until it threatens to split his face into half. He nods, and Chanyeol quickly peels the lid off.

 

“ _Har cheong gai_! Oh my god, I’ve missed you so much!” And Chanyeol practically squeals when he pops a piece of the chicken into his mouth, hands coming up to cup his face as he shuts his eyes in bliss. “It’s still so good, oh god.”

 

Across the table, Yixing just eats his lunch, teeth chewing on the same batch of _har cheong gai_ that he had fried together that morning. “Are you sure you only missed my cooking, Chanyeol?”

 

Chanyeol opens his eyes and stares straight at Yixing. Forgetting that his fingers are oily, he envelops Yixing’s hands with his. “I miss your cooking _and_ you, Yixing.”

 

Yixing laughs. “Okay, that’s good to know. But, eh, you wanted to ask me something, right?” He stuffs a spoon of rice into his mouth. “Isn’t that why you wanted to meet up?”

 

“Well.” Chanyeol swallows, wincing when some rice gets stuck in his throat and he gratefully accepts the bottle of water from Yixing who _tsks_ fondly at him. “Since you’re still best friends with Kyungsoo, I… wanted to ask you if you know why he’s so reluctant to talk to me.”

 

Chanyeol sneaks a timid glance at his Chinese friend, clearly remembering how un- _xiao mian yang_ Yixing is despite that nickname. Yixing is a good guy, a very loyal friend, and Chanyeol knows how much Do Kyungsoo means to Zhang Yixing. And even though Yixing still treats Chanyeol as though nothing has changed within these two years of no contact, it’s peanuts when pitted against the pair of childhood friend’s _twenty_ years. Besides, it’s not as though Chanyeol doesn’t know discretion, tact. He _knows_ how sensitive, awkward even, his question is.

 

But as much as he’s expected to receive silence as an answer, it still hurts when Yixing keeps quiet and pointedly avoids his searching gaze. Chanyeol has guessed just as much, it concerns Kyungsoo after all, there’s no way Yixing’s going to tell him exactly–

 

“Why are you trying to be friends with him again, Yeol?”

 

– _oh_ . Oh, Yixing’s replied. With a question. And in that cautious tone (if Chanyeol’s memory serves him right) usually reserved for Lu Han whenever the boy ‘casually’ asks for a favour that always ends up with Yixing committing something akin to a _crime_ (in the _xiao mian yang_ ’s words).

 

Chanyeol will be lying if he says that he’s not surprised, slightly caught off-guard by Yixing’s counter-question. But Baekhyun (his crafty, conniving best friend; _hey!_ ) has thought of this in the numerous scenarios that he’s role-played with Chanyeol the previous night (because Baekhyun was so sure that his best friend will screw everything up _somehow_ ). He had posed a question similar to Yixing’s, and of course, Chanyeol had screwed his answer up wonderfully then. (“ _Why do I even hold high hopes for you…_ ” Baekhyun had sighed while rubbing his temples.)

 

So Chanyeol’s kind of committed the model answer that Baekhyun kept repeating to memory, and he just smoothly let the words roll off his tongue. He hopes that Yixing won’t feel that his answer seems a little too well-put-together, won’t hear the disgust hidden layers beneath his words, won’t be able to sense how his feelings are the opposite of what he’s said.

 

“Because I realised that I still have feelings for him.”

  
  


\---

  
  


“H–”

 

“Here’s your change.”

 

The customer freezes. The barista waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Are you okay?”

 

“Y-Yeah.” Is something wrong with his ears because _did I just hear a totally different tone of voice?_

 

“And here.” The customer feels something foreign in his hand and looks down to find a piece of napkin stuffed within his grasp together with his change. “The thing that you’ve been asking for.”

 

“Thing…?”

 

The barista rolls his eyes. “Sheesh, you’re still so slow on uptakes.” A gentle smile form and assaults the chest of the customer. He resists rubbing at it. “You’ll know when you open it and here, your tray.” A cup of hot green tea and a plate of a single slice of cheesecake placed upon a wooden tray appears in the customer’s vision. There’s a smiley face drawn with strawberry sauce next to the cake. “Now scoot, I have powders to refill.”

 

The customer still doesn’t know what just happened even after leaving the joint, the image of a smiling and waving barista freshly imprinted in his mind.

  
  


\---

  
  


// _hey, kyungsoo! this is chanyeol! ^^_ //

 

// _Hello, Chanyeol. Is anything the matter?_ //

 

// _remember i said that i wanted to take you out for a meal? :))_ //

 

// _Oh. Yes, I do remember._ //

 

// _great!! are you available tomorrow? does dinner sound good to you?_ //

 

// _I don’t have anything on. And yeah, dinner sounds good. :)_ //

 

// _reply me with your address and i’ll pick you up at 5! :3_ //

 

// _Okay. I’ll text it to you later because I’m working right now, and the clown grin that Baekhyun’s been directing at me all shift is beginning to get on my nerves. Excuse me while I murder your best friend._ //

 

// _by all means, go right ahead kekekekekekeke_ //

  
  


\---

  
  


Yixing hears a whimper before he feels the couch dip and he gets a lapful of his flat mate’s head. His fingers automatically tangle themselves in the hair, eyes still fixated on the programme on the television. “Something wrong, friend?”

 

Kyungsoo shakes his head, then nods his head. After a second, he shakes it again. A corner of Yixing’s mouth quirks upwards, and Kyungsoo knows that his best friend knows what's wrong. Yet, he doesn't seem to do anything to help him. Kyungsoo gives up and just provides the answer. “It’s Chanyeol.”

 

“What about him?” Yixing answers instantaneously (and Kyungsoo contemplates inflicting pain on the boy for his _unhelpfulness_ ). “Aren't you going out on a date–”

 

“It's not a date!” Kyungsoo immediately screeches, body shooting up to face his friend but they've both forgotten about something, and a split second later, Kyungsoo shrieks in pain. “Ugh! Your fingers!” His head is unable to leave Yixing’s lap until moments later after the boy removes the last of his fingers from his hair. Kyungsoo mumbles under his breath to _cut them off, those fuckers_ in which Yixing smoothly replies, “Can you bear to? These fingers give you so much pleasure y–”

 

~~“THE READERS ARE GOING TO MISUNDERSTAND!”~~

 

“ _Shut up!_ ” hisses Kyungsoo, a hand swiftly reaching up to his idiotic friend’s head to whack it. “Those fingers of yours are criminals, but they do give nice head massages…”

 

Yixing smirks at that, wiggles his brows even and Kyungsoo contemplates murder. Then suicide (because he realises that he's only got Yixing left and the world would be so lonely without him; _no one tells him that please_ ).

 

The playful moment passes, the light atmosphere taking a deep dive when a downcast expression creeps onto Kyungsoo’s face and he adjusts his position on the couch to be able to comfortably rest his head on his best friend’s shoulder. Yixing rests his upon Kyungsoo’s, his hand covering his before he returns his eyes to the programme on the television screen. He repeats his previous question. Kyungsoo goes rigid.

 

“I…” he begins, but soon sighs. “I don’t know, actually.”  

 

The sounds from the television fill the silence of the living room. Yixing hums, hand squeezing Kyungsoo’s to silently say that he’s listening and Kyungsoo collapses against his side, delving into the familiar warmth of his childhood friend. He doesn’t want to leave this, this whatever that he’s been having with Yixing since _forever_ . In fact, he _never_ wants to leave, but he knows that one day he has to. Yixing isn’t his, never was his in the first place. He’s his own and he has his own life to lead. He can’t be by his side forever because one day, he will find that special someone and fall in love with him ( _yes, him_ ), and where would that leave Kyungsoo?

 

So it’s with these thoughts that Kyungsoo pushes his head off Yixing’s shoulder, and he separates his shoulder from Yixing’s, and the boy’s surprised _huh_ immediately travels to Kyungsoo’s ears. He keeps his head straight, eyes refusing to meet with the confused gaze that’s directed at his. “Soo…?”

 

Yixing doesn’t look at Kyungsoo long, though, attention suddenly shifting to his occupied hand when he feels movement, and he sees Kyungsoo’s fingers slipping between his. They squeeze for a fraction of a second. Then, Yixing understands.

 

_I’ll be okay, Xing._

 

_Yeah. I know._

  
  


\---

  
  


Chanyeol glances to his right, a habit that he’s been trying to get rid of for two years (to no avail, obviously), and a wave of nervousness washes over him. Of all times to feel nervous, it has to be during this– this _whatever_ he’s doing with Kyungsoo. (It’s not a date, it’s totally not. Dates are for people who feel _something_ for each other, and Chanyeol most definitely _does not_ feel anything for his ex-boyfriend. He _does not_.)

 

But, _ugh_. Why couldn’t he be nervous when he was home just now playing games with Baekhyun? Surely seeing your character on the verge of death and being stomped on by your best friend’s one hell of a fighter with a dare of _bet you can’t beat me Yeol you suck at this_ warrants more anxiousness than this. So why? _Whyyyyyyyy–_

 

“If me being on your right freaks you out, I can always walk on your left.” Kyungsoo tilts his head up, and at that moment a ray of the setting sun beams onto his face, giving his features an ethereal glow. Kyungsoo winces at the sudden pain inflicted on his eyes due to the brightness and squeezes an eye shut; his other eye stares at Chanyeol. “We’re not going to hold hands anyway.”

 

They’ve stopped walking by then, somehow ending up at the side of the street while other pedestrians continue to pass them by. A couple of them would divert their attention to the pair, eyes widening at how both boys look so good standing together, even though the height difference is so vast. But those are fleeting thoughts and will be pushed to the recesses of their minds the moment they no longer see the pair. It’s human nature; out of sight, out of mind.

 

Unfortunately, that cannot be said for Chanyeol.

 

Even after two years, those memories that he thinks he’s forgotten are actually very fresh in his mind, as though they just happened yesterday. No matter how many times or how heavily he’s berated himself for thinking about the past, Chanyeol still does it. He finds himself drifting off at the most inopportune of times, with most of those times happening during his boring-as-fuck uni lectures and tutorials. Fortunately, he doesn’t sigh dreamily, nor do his eyes turn moony. _Unfortunately_ , he does smile widely and his lecturers would always mistake that as a sign of knowing the answers to their questions so almost all the time Chanyeol gets snapped out of his reveries by their voices. The expressions of his coursemates are anything but pity.

 

So as Chanyeol’s pair of eyes gazes into Kyungsoo’s single opened one, he finds himself unable to look away even though it’s two versus one (weird logic, but you get it). It’s then does his mind decide to reminisce about the past, an image rising above all to appear upon the surface of a metaphorical memory pool. Chanyeol doesn’t bother to stop it, he knows his efforts will be futile anyway because truth be told, the rest of the times where he drifts away from the present are when he least expects it to happen.

 

And Chanyeol finds himself drifting, drifting…

 

Someone prods his side–

 

“Chanyeol, are you alright?”

 

–and brings him back. He soon realises that Kyungsoo’s looking at him with enough concern swirling in his orbs to cause his chest to stir once again. He (tries to) ignores it for the second time.

 

“Uh–”

 

“Even though you always spaced out back then, your eyes don’t shut themselves.” The furrow between Kyungsoo’s brows deepen and Chanyeol mentally chides his twitching fingers, clenching his fists to prevent them from committing actions that he can’t explain. “Are you sure that you’re–”

 

“I’m okay,” Chanyeol cuts in, a forced, patronising smile forming on his face. Then he repeats in a more affirming tone because if the sceptical expression on Kyungsoo’s face is any indication, Chanyeol knows that he isn’t convinced.

 

“I’m really okay… Kyungsoo.”

 

The purse of Kyungsoo’s lips confirms Chanyeol’s suspicion that Kyungsoo isn’t convinced, as he always had been back in the days, back in the past but, _oh_ , this isn’t the past. They’re in the future and it’s been two years. They’re standing opposite each other as acquaintances, not lovers. Heck, they’re not even friends.

 

“Okay.”

 

Chanyeol hears the reluctance in Kyungsoo’s single word. He’s still not convinced, probably still wanting to probe for a reason. And Chanyeol looks at him, fixes his eyes on Kyungsoo. He admits that he’s waiting because Chanyeol is lying if he says that he’s not because Kyungsoo just doesn’t stop at _okay_. Kyungsoo would ask more questions, probe, dig deeper until Chanyeol surrenders and spills the beans.

 

And, _fuck._  That’s another thing about Kyungsoo that Chanyeol has unknowingly recalled. He doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, doesn’t know if this sudden bout of recollection is going to aid him in his revenge plan or is it just going to fuck him up in the long run. But if the light feeling in his chest is any indication, Chanyeol thinks it’s going to be a good thing.

 

But for how long, that remains to be seen.

  
  


\---

  
  


_“Walk on my right, Soo.”_

 

_The hand in Kyungsoo’s right hand grips tighter and makes him stop in his tracks. The corners of his lips tug downwards in confusion, and he tilts his head up to look at a smiling Chanyeol. “Why?”_

 

_With his free hand, Chanyeol pries Kyungsoo’s fingers off his left hand and Kyungsoo’s hand drops back to his side. It hangs there limply. Kyungsoo immediately scowls. “I know actions mean more than words but you didn’t have to make the fact that you don’t want to hold my hand so obvious.” And he folds his arms across his chest. The scowl on his face is legendary._

 

_“Don’t jump to conclusions, sweetheart.”_

 

 _And Kyungsoo watches with gradually-rounding eyes as Chanyeol grasps his left hand with gentleness people generally use when gathering precious water in their hands and slips his calloused fingers in the spaces between his own ones. The sensation against his skin causes Kyungsoo to shiver and just when he thinks his heart cannot beat any faster, it surprises him by doing so for his_ _sly_ _boyfriend raises their joined hands to his lips, peppers light kisses upon his knuckles._

 

_Chanyeol keeps Kyungsoo’s hand against his lips, and Kyungsoo feels his boyfriend’s breath on his already-sensitive skin when he speaks, “Instead of holding each other’s non-dominant hands, shouldn’t we take advantage of the fact that you’re left-handed while I’m right-handed? From now on, let’s hold with our dominant hands.” And Chanyeol shakes their joined hands to bring the point across. “Okay?”_

 

_Kyungsoo chuckles softly, then amusedly says, “You and your weird logic.”_

 

_“It’s not weird!” Chanyeol pouts. “I have a perfectly normal reason for this!”_

 

_Kyungsoo cocks a brow, and Chanyeol exaggeratingly clears his throat. His tone is surprisingly serious (and Kyungsoo resists the urge to burst out laughing). “Because even though our handedness is different, it completes us.” Chanyeol stares straight at his boyfriend._

 

_“It makes us whole.”_

 

_Silence. Then–_

 

_“Pfft!” Kyungsoo spits at Chanyeol’s face, bursting out into the laughter that he cannot withhold any longer. Chanyeol looks utterly scandalised._

 

_“Oh my god, you’re so cheesy!” wheezes Kyungsoo, his free hand wiping away tears welling up in his eyes. He soon feels warmth at both his eyes and realises that it’s Chanyeol. His boyfriend’s thumbs gently swipe at the corners before sliding down to the apples of his cheeks. They begin to rub circles._

 

_“But you like it when I’m cheesy.”_

 

_“Show-off.”_

 

_Chanyeol laughs, then Kyungsoo squeals when his chin is being grabbed and his face is being pulled towards his boyfriend’s and Chanyeol plants a chaste, but deep, kiss on Kyungsoo’s lips. They part seconds later, breaths mingling as Chanyeol rests his forehead upon Kyungsoo’s._

 

_Kyungsoo like this, likes how Chanyeol is slowly upping their skinship. From hand-holding to pecks on the cheeks and lips, to chaste, deep kisses, and to touching foreheads. Kyungsoo wonders what’s next, wonders if Chanyeol is going to take it up a notch now that he knows that Kyungsoo isn’t put off by physical contact._

 

_Now that Kyungsoo realises that he doesn’t want to be too far away, wanting to stay as close as possible because the both of them won’t be much longer. The day of Chanyeol’s return to his home country looms over them._

 

_“But you love me anyway, right?”_

 

_Kyungsoo pretends to hesitate, earning himself a loud scoff from Chanyeol, but he shuts him up with another kiss, swallowing the splutter that rises from his boyfriend’s throat. Chanyeol lets out a blissful sigh, whining slightly when Kyungsoo makes a move to part and he hurriedly wraps his free arm around the boy’s waist. “You’re not going anywhere until you answer my question.”_

 

_The petulance in his boyfriend’s tone causes Kyungsoo to giggle. Chanyeol’s pouting, but his lips soon blossom into a wide grin when Kyungsoo finally says what he knows his boyfriend wants to hear._

 

_“Yeah, I do love you.”_

  
  


\---

  
  


“You hardly ate just now. Food’s not to your taste?”

 

Chanyeol looks to his right to find Kyungsoo frowning. The corners of the boy’s lips haven’t tugged upwards even once after they’ve been served their dishes, and as much as Chanyeol doesn’t want to be concerned about him, he’s still (a little) worried.

 

“It’s just…” Kyungsoo’s mouth twists, and he scrunches his nose—it’s an expression that Chanyeol’s seen many times, dubbing it Kyungsoo’s _I-know-but-I-don’t-know_ expression (which is precisely what Chanyeol’s thinking then). “Not up to par? You’d understand; you’ve been to Yixing’s family restaurant.”

 

And Chanyeol _does_ understand, now that Kyungsoo mentions it. In summary, Yixing’s _ba-ba_ is, most likely, hands-down the best chef at whipping up Chinese delicacies. (It must be mentioned that Chanyeol’s _only_ been to Yixing’s family restaurant for Chinese food when he was in China; so his judgment is to be taken with a pinch of salt.)

 

“Well, the _har cheong gai_ was rather dry, and the soy sauce pork could probably do with less salt,” Chanyeol remarks. From the corners of his eyes, he sees Kyungsoo nodding his head. “Simply put, if you want Chinese food, go to Yixing’s father’s restaurant.”

 

“Yep, or you could just get Yixing to cook for you,” says Kyungsoo as he turns to look up at Chanyeol. There’s a smile on his face. A rather _fond_ smile that has Chanyeol feeling… something within his chest and his face inexplicably falls. He hastily drops his head, not wanting Kyungsoo to see his change of expression.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t seem to have noticed, for he continues to say, “Yixing may not be as good as his _ba-ba_ , but he's not too shabby either.”

 

From the corners of his eyes, Chanyeol spies Kyungsoo’s smile blossoming into a more genuine, proud-of-my-friend ( _are they even friends?_ ) grin. The _something_ in his chest bubbles and Chanyeol barely stops a hand from coming up to rub at the aching spot.

 

They continue walking, noses sniffling once every dozen steps when the cool night breeze sweeps past them. Chanyeol pretends to not notice Kyungsoo shivering, his arms coming up to wrap around himself. He shoves his fingers deep into his front jeans pockets, lest he does things he can’t explain.

 

They’re waiting at a traffic light, the bustle of traffic roaring in front of them. A car zooms dangerously past them then, and in that moment Chanyeol’s heart overthrows his mind. He snaps both hands out towards Kyungsoo, fingers curling around shoulders before pulling the boy away from the edge of the pavement. Chanyeol subconsciously pushes Kyungsoo behind him, positioning himself in front instead.

 

Kyungsoo’s head appears from behind Chanyeol, confusion and gratitude written on his face. Chanyeol doesn’t acknowledge, he just looks away, fingers sliding into the front pockets of his jeans. He knows the action is futile; he’s already done something that he can’t explain.

 

The traffic light is still red. Silence envelops them both until Kyungsoo suddenly pipes up, “You're awfully quiet. _Too_ quiet, actually.”

 

Chanyeol stifles a laugh, but it escapes anyway. He hears his nervousness in it. “I'm… thinking.”

 

“Oh? What are you thinking about?”

 

The green man appears then, and the pair starts to walk across the road. Chanyeol doesn’t know what he’s doing but his feet have gone and positioned himself to walk on Kyungsoo’s right, where the vehicles are lined, motors thrumming with energy and ready to let loose once the red man returns. He racks his head for a reason, only to lightly shake his head and will himself to not overthink his action.

 

It’s when they’re safe across the road and well on their way to Kyungsoo’s (and Yixing’s) apartment, and Chanyeol has once again (unconsciously) positioned himself on Kyungsoo’s left (where the edge of the street is), does he answer Kyungsoo’s question.

 

“Are you and Yixing dating?”

 

Chanyeol knows that his question is a bolt out of the blue, but it surprises him when Kyungsoo replies just as lightning-quick as his question.

 

“No, we're not.”

 

Then, as though he had an afterthought. “Though at times I find myself wondering why.”

 

It’s immediate and involuntary. A guttural growl rises from the depths of Chanyeol’s chest and escapes his tightly-pursed lips. Chanyeol is pretty certain that he isn’t smiling. There is probably a deep furrow between his brows, a downturn of his lips, and his vision is darkening. The darkness not only blurs his sight, it also clouds his mind.

 

For he snaps, “Yeah, why aren't you two _together_?”

 

A gasp. “Chan–”

 

“Best buddies for life right? So why not change to best _lovers_ for life instead?” Chanyeol is on a roll, rambling on even though he doesn’t want to. But his mouth suddenly isn’t his and he mentally swears to staple his lips together the moment he gets home later because _fuck, stop betraying me stupid mouth!!_

 

(He will not bother with Baekhyun’s sarcasm either if his best friend walks in on his stapling moment because he really needs to punish himself for this very-not-needed venting towards Kyungsoo. And, what? _No_ , Chanyeol doesn't care for him. He doesn't care about Kyungsoo. He doesn’t. Not. At. All.)

 

“Zhang Yixing and Do Kyungsoo sitting on a tree– now how did the rest of it go ugh _whatever_ – but how _lovely_.”

 

Chanyeol throws his hands up in the air before bringing them down to fold them across his chest. He then makes the mistake of darting his eyes to Kyungsoo’s face because _wow_ , boiling mad is a severe understatement. Chanyeol hasn't felt his volcanic-temperature glare in a little more than twenty-three months. He (horrifically and) inexplicably finds himself missing it.

 

“ _What the fuck!?_ What is wrong with you?! Did you knock your head or something!?” Kyungsoo almost-yells, his large, round eyes swirling with the disbelief he’s no doubt feeling. “Why are you behaving like this!?” His glare is legendary, causing Chanyeol to subtly cower under it even though he’s taller than Kyungsoo. “Why–”

 

But Chanyeol mans up, his posture straightening when an unknown surge of courage washes over him, prompting him to stare right back at the boy who (expectedly) doesn’t flinch nor back down. Chanyeol’s moment of toughness dissolves, though, as Kyungsoo opens his mouth at the same time Chanyeol hollers, “BECAUSE I’M STUPID AND CRAZY FOR STILL LIKING YOU!”

 

A figurative bolt of lightning strikes between them and the shock effectively shuts Kyungsoo up, his jaw going slacker than before. His large, round eyes grow impossibly large _r_.

 

Chanyeol’s facial features, however, soften significantly. His lips thin into a line while his eyes revert back to their original size. His stare on Kyungsoo changes to that of a gentle gaze, with a bout of helplessness that he himself wonders if it’s genuine or forced—he can’t tell anymore. Chanyeol can’t differentiate between real or fake, truth or lie. But there’s one thing that he knows for sure that it’s real, that it’s the truth—his heart is beating really, really, _really_ quickly.

 

Yet, what does that mean for him?

 

In front of him, Kyungsoo seems to have frozen, and Chanyeol sees the confusion so evident in his beautiful, large, round eyes. He doesn’t know what to think, how to feel about that.

 

“Kyungsoo…?”

 

Kyungsoo’s dropped his eyes, choosing to seemingly fixate them upon his sneakers instead. There’s nothing about his posture that can tell Chanyeol of his emotions, but as he slowly bends to dip his head down to Kyungsoo’s, Chanyeol notices the deep flush of the boy’s cheeks.

 

Oh.

 

 _Oh_.

 

“K–”

 

“I– I gotta go.” Kyungsoo suddenly snaps his head up, the deep flush of his cheeks now so much more prominent under the incandescent light of the streetlamp. In that moment, in Chanyeol’s eyes, Kyungsoo looks beautiful, as good-looking as Chanyeol last saw him. It’s been two years but Kyungsoo still…

 

Kyungsoo still takes Chanyeol’s breath away, still renders him breathless at times.

 

And it’s with these unconscious thoughts does Chanyeol reach out to a turning Kyungsoo, fingers easily wrapping around the boy’s wrist. Kyungsoo wrenches out of Chanyeol’s grasp immediately. He doesn’t turn around.

 

Chanyeol reaches out again, but it’s as though Kyungsoo has eyes on the back of his head because he takes a large step forward.

 

“Bye, Chanyeol.”

 

And with that, Kyungsoo walks off. He takes a couple of steps before he breaks into a run, almost bumping into an incoming pair of passers-by.

 

Chanyeol doesn’t move. He just stands there, eyes glued to the back of Kyungsoo. To the back of his first fan. It’s not hard to recall. It’s hardly a challenge for Chanyeol as his mind easily digs out that image of the first time he caught a glimpse of Kyungsoo’s back view.

 

There’s no change.

 

But Chanyeol knows that something else did. And he finds himself inexplicably disliking it, hating it.

 

He doesn’t like how _Kyungsoo_ seems to have changed.

  
  


\---

  
  


“Where are your contributions to this month’s rent and bills, Do Kyungsoo?”

 

Reluctantly lifting his head up from where he’s been lying all-day (for the past seven days), Kyungsoo quickly shows a palm to Yixing. “Before you say anything, I know I look like shit so shut up.”

 

Yixing promptly closes his mouth.

 

Kyungsoo drops the hand. He combs it through his dishevelled hair, an irritated expression forming on his face when his fingers get tangled. Pained grunts fill the silence as he works the kinks out.

 

“Soo.”

 

Kyungsoo sighs softly, forgetting that Yixing is still standing next to him. He isn’t usually this scatterbrained, this quiet. No matter how bad his day had been in the past, Kyungsoo would always confide in his best friend, seek him out for comfort, then do something in return for his silent accompaniment. It’s been a routine for years, even though it took a few awkward months of adjusting to each other’s silence and contours of each other’s bodies. But the results are rewarding: every hug, every lean, every arm around a shoulder is more than comfortable, more than satisfying because the childhood friends know that they will always be there for each other no matter what happens.

 

So Kyungsoo is pretty certain that his recent actions must have been awfully disconcerting to Yixing. He’s pretty sure that in Yixing’s head, he could be having thoughts along the line of ‘something terrible must have transpired during that– that _whatever_ he’s gone on with his ex-buddy to have caused this phenomenon ( _that’s way more mysterious than why does Byun Baekhyun like Zhang Yixing_ , Kyungsoo’s own thought)’.

 

And the mystery only deepens when Kyungsoo refuses to say anything about it no matter how many times Yixing has asked. Throughout the week Kyungsoo could feel the jumbled mess of emotions evident in his best friend, could see his inner turmoil through his actions. On one day Yixing had been super duper curious and intrigued about what had happened, while on another day he was extremely worried and concerned about Kyungsoo who hadn’t spoken a single word since his return from the _whatever_. Then, on another he was frustrated and stressed out because Yixing was bitching about university and him ( _“Wow that lump is on the living room floor again!”_ ) _._

 

So Kyungsoo doesn’t blame Yixing when he blurts out the one question that Kyungsoo is 100% certain has been running through Yixing’s mind ever since he saw him stumbling through the door, hastily ripping sneakers off feet before disappearing into his bedroom, only to emerge for classes.

 

Even though he’s fully expected the question, its verbalisation still stops Kyungsoo in his track, right foot in the air whilst in the midst of wanting to step into the kitchen in search of breakfast. It’s a Saturday, Day Six of his temporary hiatus at work due to personal reasons (that’s what he told softhearted Boss Joonmyeon who quickly sympathised and agreed to) and he knows that Yixing probably has made some because, according to the weekly schedule Joonmyeon has kindly uploaded in their work group chat, he only has to report to work in the afternoon to replace Baekhyun who would, no doubt, stay behind to _help my dear Xing lest he cannot cope and–_ Ugh, stupid crush.

 

 _Speaking of stupid crushes_ , Kyungsoo’s mind oh so helpfully supplies, _don’t you still have one on–_

 

“It’s nothing–”

 

“Don’t give me that.” Yixing’s unusually knife-sharp tone cuts into his words midway, and Kyungsoo unconsciously flinches. “Both you and I clearly know that something happened that night.”

 

Ignoring Yixing, Kyungsoo makes his way to the kitchen and plops himself onto the chair he always sits on. The chair’s unusually hard and cold, and Kyungsoo pretends to not mind the initial discomfort, bringing his knees up to his chest instead. It’s then does Yixing appear in his sight, occupying the other chair with two cups in his hands. Wisps of steam waft upwards from the mouths of the cups and Yixing sets one in front of Kyungsoo. He doesn’t say anything, but nineteen years of friendship easily tells Kyungsoo that Yixing’s body language is saying _talk, I’m listening._

 

So, he does.

 

“Chanyeol told me that he still has feelings for me, that he’s–” Kyungsoo chokes, feels his airway constricting for no reason, but, nevertheless, he plows on—discomfort be damned—because there’s no getting out of this anymore, not when Yixing looks so serious and hell-bent on tearing an answer out of him.

 

It’s fine though, because at that moment Kyungsoo realises that he’s had enough of the pity party he’d thrown for himself since that night. He can’t keep lounging on the couch, laying on the floor. He can’t keep skipping out on work shifts he’s supposed to go for. He also can’t keep on avoiding Yixing who, most definitely, is the _only_ person he has as family now. He owes Yixing an answer, owes Yixing this much for all that’s he’s done for him in the past nineteen years.

 

“–he’s still very much in love with me.”

 

The kitchen lapses into silence. Kyungsoo takes this moment to bring his cup to his lips, and upon a sip, he instantly recognises the rather thick liquid; it’s one of the many instant cereal sachets Yixing’s brought over from China. ( _“It’s the closest thing to a proper breakfast that can be prepared in seconds flat.”_ was what Yixing argued when the pair of friends were debating over what Chinese food to ship over, and Kyungsoo had deemed the food item a complete waste of space and luggage weight. Yixing blatantly ignored his friend and shoved a few boxes into the food luggage anyway.)

 

“Well.”

 

At Yixing’s voice that suddenly inserts itself into the kitchen’s silence, Kyungsoo glances up from the swirl of the warm beverage he’s created, only to burst into light laughter when his eyes instantly hone in on his childhood friend’s mouth—a layer of the drink lines his upper lip like a moustache.

 

Yixing frowns. “What? Why are you suddenly laughing!”

 

Kyungsoo makes a vague gesture, a finger swiping across his own upper lip and Yixing does the same, letting out a disgusted _ack_ when his index returns scathed. Kyungsoo sniggers and sips from his cup. He makes sure that he doesn’t have a moustache too; Yixing doesn’t need another piece of blackmail material seeing how his phone is situated dangerously nearby on the countertop.

 

This temporary atmosphere of joy vanishes the moment Yixing comes back to his chair after washing his hands, his brows furrowed and the corners of his lips slightly pulled downwards into a frown that tells Kyungsoo one thing— _enough of fun and games, we’re settling this now._

 

_Don’t run away._

 

Kyungsoo wants to roll his eyes. He hadn’t thought of doing that. Running away. Because if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have opened up to Yixing in the first place. And, _fine_ , so he’s almost one week late in their usual routine of confiding in each other but at least he’s confessing _now_. On Day Six. And not on Month Twenty-Seven or Year Twelve.

 

“You did agree to give him your number after I told you that he still has feelings for you, so technically you can’t be shocked or surprised or whatever you’re feeling,” says Yixing as he circles the rim of his cup with his index.

 

“Because it’s no secret that you’re still very much in love with him, too.”

 

Kyungsoo catches the orbs of his childhood friend at the exact same moment a ray of sunlight beams straight onto his face from the windows, setting his earnest expression alight and the truth of his words burns brightly in them.

 

“Do you know how to answer him now?”

 

“I…”

 

Kyungsoo realises it then.

 

“I… do.”

  
  


\---

  
  


// _Hello, Chanyeol._ //

 

// _???_ //

 

// _Are you available for dinner tomorrow? I’m so sorry I’m asking on such short notice._ //

 

// _Well… Fortunately for you, I am free! I was supposed to meet Baekhyun for dinner but Joonmyeon-hyung suddenly arranged for him to work tomorrow’s evening shift, so…_ //

 

// _I’m sorry. My absence from work has been causing nothing but trouble and more shifts for Baekhyun. I am so sorry, Chanyeol._ //

 

// _It’s fine. I rather he head to work than stay home and wreak havoc upon my ears with his endless yelling at his game buddies. .-._ //

 

// _Nonetheless, I am still sorry._ //

 

// _Don’t worry about it! ^^ Are you going to sleep now?_ //

 

// _Yes, I am. Good night, Chanyeol. :)_ //

 

// _!!!! A smiley face!!! You are warming up to me!!! And good night, Kyungsoo! ^^_ //

  
  


\---

  
  


Chanyeol finds a fabric-wrapped lunch box being slid in front of him the moment he plops onto the chair opposite Kyungsoo. His brows disappear into his hair, eyes blown wide as the boy stands up and shoots him an apologetic look.

 

“I’m so sorry for the last minute change in location and the fact that our dinner is no longer feasible. So, as compensation, I made dinner for you.” Kyungsoo points to the lunch box and digs out a spoon from one of his apron pockets, fingers slotting it through the loose knot. “Eat up, alright?”

 

And then, he’s gone. Traipsing silently across the empty space, weaving through the unoccupied tables and chairs. Chanyeol watches him turn his attention to the cash register, tapping on the screen until the register _pings_ open and Kyungsoo begins to count the wads of cash within. He doesn’t look at Chanyeol.

 

Momentarily allowing his attention to deviate from Kyungsoo, Chanyeol, from the corners of his eyes, spies Boss Kim and Best Friend Byun peeking out from the cloth that obscures the kitchen from public eyes. He wants to very much roll his eyes at them. He doesn’t, choosing to redirect his attention to the item in front of him instead.

 

“He made this, huh,” Chanyeol breathes out, fingers slowly reaching out to the very neatly wrapped (and obviously very Kyungsoo-style) lunch box. He carefully slides the spoon out the knot, sets it aside, and begins to separate the fabric from the plastic container within. When he has folded the giraffe-printed piece of cloth and set it aside, Chanyeol opens the box.

 

And his mind is suddenly bombarded with images of the last meal he had with him.

 

Chanyeol’s favourite Chinese dish fill the container, and he tries (hard) to not let his collecting drool escape his mouth and taint the wonderful food so beautifully arranged in the lunch box. He would be lying if he says that he doesn't miss this, doesn't miss the food he grew to love in his six months in China. ~~He'd also be fucking lying if he says that he doesn't miss his ex-boyfriend’s soy sauce pork the most.~~

 

So he picks up the spoon, eyes zooming in on that single dish. And Chanyeol pretends to not notice the sudden burst of delight emanating from the counter as he shoves a spoonful of it into his mouth. He fails to bite back a knowing smile, utterly failing at controlling the happiness that’s rolling off of him in large waves.

 

Chanyeol, undoubtedly, also fails at stopping his mind from telling him the fact that _he remembers_.

 

 _Kyungsoo remembers that I love his home cooked soy sauce pork_.

  
  


\---

  


“Here, let me help you with that.”

 

Kyungsoo almost lets out a startled shriek when a dismembered voice comes out of nowhere and a large hand envelops both of his. It's only when he feels the heavy weight of the trash leaving his hands and Chanyeol’s smiling face appearing in his sight, does he relax.

 

“Why are you still here?” is the first thing he asks when the boy comes back from throwing the trash into the large bin a few metres away from the back door of the cafe. Both Joonmyeon and Baekhyun have gone home, so he has to clear the rubbish on his own. The bag was heavy, no doubt about that, and while he's normally able to lug it over, he finds himself unable to do so today. Kyungsoo attributes it to his week-long absence, mentally reprimanding himself for throwing such a long and unnecessary one-person pity party.

 

“I was waiting for you,” Chanyeol replies. He's standing in the darkness, light shining on his shoulder. Kyungsoo’s standing under the lamp that lights up the back door, a warm glow beaming down directly on his head.

 

“Why...” He slowly says as Chanyeol steps up onto the porch. Kyungsoo tilts his head upwards. “...were you waiting?”

 

Chanyeol reaches into his back pockets. A paper rustles into view and he holds it up between them. “Got to give you an answer for this.”

 

“Oh.” is all Kyungsoo manages to say before Chanyeol’s face is right in front of his, his eyes piercingly sharp but beautifully bright. The smile on his face is dazzling, blinding Kyungsoo into oblivion and _ah, I remember_.

 

_Park Chanyeol is, and always will be, a sun._

 

Even before Chanyeol had arrived at their school, Kyungsoo has already known just about all there was to know about him (no) thanks to Assigned Buddy Zhang Yixing (who took it upon himself to unconsciously etch the information in his childhood friend’s brain through his relentless chatter during meals). But Kyungsoo pushed these useless (at that moment in time) facts to the recesses of his mind, and only dug them out when the exchange student officially became his boyfriend.

 

Being his first boyfriend must have sucked, Kyungsoo bitterly recalls, since he’s practically (and literally) the epitome of a virgin, what with awkward kisses and dates and holding of hands and tingling sensations running through him whenever Chanyeol slipped an arm around his waist as though it was the most natural thing in the world. (It obviously was _not_ the most natural thing in the world for Kyungsoo.)

 

Yet, Chanyeol hadn’t minded. He didn’t mind that his boyfriend was as rigid as a rock when he hugged him, didn’t mind that he behaved like a stingy _ahjumma_ what with the price calculations and comparisons he always does in his head whenever Chanyeol wanted to bring him to nicer locations for meals.

 

But above all, he didn’t mind that Kyungsoo was (and still is), according to his own words, the dark side of the moon. His blank expressions, his blunt and direct words, as well as his preference to stay indoors for most of their dates, don’t at all put Chanyeol off. If anything, according to Chanyeol, those seemingly ‘dark’ and boring things just made the boy like love his boyfriend even more.

 

So Kyungsoo hadn’t understood at first when Chanyeol kept smiling at him even though they were at his house tackling the mountain of homework their respective _laoshi_ have thrown at them. Kyungsoo had thought that Chanyeol would be sulking instead, because he had turned down his offer of studying at a public library. Kyungsoo also hadn’t known why every now and then his boyfriend would glance up, corners of his lips pulling upwards into fond smiles while his eyes twinkle even though the lights in his room aren’t that bright. It’s only when Kyungsoo had caught Chanyeol doing the exact same thing over a period of time and in other locations, plus other embarrassing things that the boy did in public (which included a _very unfortunate_ face-plant into a puddle on a really rainy day) only to laugh it off, did Kyungsoo realise that _ah, he’s like a sun._

 

Even before they became a couple, Kyungsoo has already noticed the aura of happiness enveloping Chanyeol. He didn’t see him often in school, but whenever he did, the exchange student was always in high spirits. He was always, if not mostly, smiling and laughing, long limbs flailing in every direction as he expressed his delight through his actions. Yixing has always said that Chanyeol unconsciously spreads his happiness around—like _a happy virus_.

 

To Kyungsoo, however, Chanyeol’s more than that. His bright and bubbly personality, coupled with his comical facial features that seem to light up the space like the sunrise does to the sky whenever he smiles, makes him resemble the largest star in the galaxy.

 

He’s warm. He’s bright. He’s _real_.

 

To Kyungsoo, Chanyeol’s the sun.

 

_His sun._

 

So it’s not surprising to Kyungsoo when Chanyeol playfully bumps his nose against his. Chanyeol’s eyes are unbelievably bright, and his smile seems to have grown wider— _more blinding_.

 

_Fucking sun._

 

And it’s as though Chanyeol is able to hear Kyungsoo curse, for he chortles, releasing small bouts of warmth that ruthlessly assault Kyungsoo’s pursed lips. Kyungsoo wants to back away, and is about to back away—because he seriously can’t take this any longer—when Chanyeol finally speaks and halts Kyungsoo’s movement completely.

 

“Yes.” is what he says.

 

“I’m willing to merge our galaxies, to let our orbit routes coincide. I, Park Chanyeol, am willing to be the bright Sun to the dark side of your Moon, again, Do Kyungsoo.”

  


(It’s only later, when Kyungsoo is on his bed, does he recall something that his childhood friend casually said during one of their dinners shortly after _he_ had asked for his number.

 

_“Have you ever once thought that you’ve gone too close to the sun, so close that its warmth envelops you, traps you in its searing heat, and renders any form of escape impossible because if you do escape, you’ll only fall? Fall into the nothingness of space with no way of moving from point A to point B because your wings have been burnt._

 

_Have you ever once thought of still wanting to escape knowing that only emptiness greets you if you do? Or would you stay despite knowing that sooner or later your wings will catch fire, burn out, and make you fall out of your orbit anyway?_

 

_I’m not going against your decision, Soo. I’m just… saying what’s surfacing in my mind now. You understand, right?_

 

 _Despite all that’s happened, do you still want to, at the risk of your wings catching fire and vanishing forever when they’re all burnt to ashes, take the chance and fly up to the Sun again?_ )

  
  


\---

  
  


“You’re weird.”

 

“Says the dude with eggplant on his face.”

 

A loud, exaggerated scoff. “Excuse you, but this will–”

 

“I don’t want to know what that purple vegetable does for your skin so shut up, Hyun.”

 

“...” Then, a raspberry. “I don’t care. You’re still weird because you’ve been clutching that piece of paper and grinning like a maniac since yesterday and _no_ , I don’t want to know what that piece of paper does for your sanity so shut up, _Yeol_.”

 

“I never said that I wanted to tell you anyway.”

 

~~_Burn, Baekhyun, burn._ ~~

  
  


\---

  
  


“So you wrote him a card and placed it–”

 

“It wasn’t a card! It was just words scribbled on a piece of paper–”

 

A loud, exaggerated scoff. “That’s the definition of a card.”

 

“No, it’s not!”

 

“...” Then, a chuckle. “I doubt you _scribbled_ those words, though. My best friend’s beautiful handwriting never deteriorates into scribbles no matter the circumstances and yes, I’m still hung up about how fucking neat your words were in that literature exam. _God, how can anyone even write twelve pages in ninety minutes, with neat handwriting to boot?_ ”

 

“Apparently, your best friend.”

 

“I hate you, Soo, I hate you.”

 

“Likewise, Xing. Likewise.”

  


(“But, really, on a serious note, you wrote him a card– I mean, _words on a_ _piece of paper_ and you guys are together again?”

 

“Let’s just say this piece of paper is my version to his song and balloons gimmick he did back in high school.”

 

“... You guys are too cheesy for me, and this is saying something because you know how much I love cheese.”

 

“Oh! That means you’d love Baekhyun some day, then, since he’s the epitome of a human cheese.”

 

“No. _Fuck no._ ”)

  
  


\---

  
  


“Almost two months, Yeol, _two months_ and this is your first time gracing your boyfriend’s live performance with your presence,” Baekhyun mock-chastises as he sets down a cup of piping hot green tea before receiving cash from his best friend. “What a bad boyfriend.”

 

“Well…” Chanyeol shoots him a weak smile.  “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

 

With his tongue out, Baekhyun shoos Chanyeol off, and with his cup of tea, he walks to sit at a table situated next to the wall. It’s quite a distance away from the small stage situated at the back of the beverage joint, and Chanyeol can’t seem to justify his action. He directs his attention to the stage instead, eyes immediately resting on the pair of boys on it.

 

It’s not hard to know that Kyungsoo has fallen into his routine of preparation. There’s a serious expression on his face as he fiddles with the microphone before adjusting the microphone stand, pulling it higher towards his face. Next to him, Yixing is tuning a guitar.

 

Knowing how engrossed Kyungsoo can be when he’s fully focused on a task, Chanyeol doesn’t bother to get his boyfriend’s attention. He patiently waits, while sipping on his tea occasionally, until the lights have slightly dimmed and Kyungsoo, after nodding to Yixing, looks up to address the audience. His eyes dart amongst the tables, seemingly taking in the faces of the joint’s customers. He smiles politely, but when Chanyeol finally sees Kyungsoo’s eyes drifting over to his, the smile instantly widens. It’s brilliant, dazzling. And while Kyungsoo has always referred to him as a sun, Chanyeol thinks that Kyungsoo is one, too.

 

_You’re both my dark side of the moon and my sun._

 

Chanyeol unabashedly sends Kyungsoo a kissy face. The boy beams, colour rushing to his cheeks as teeth appear to bite down on his lower lip in embarrassment. Chanyeol wants to giggle, but he stops himself when a single thought shoots through his mind.

 

“There are people.”

 

Kyungsoo’s voice suddenly echoes within the joint and all conversations are instantly hushed.

 

“There are people who believe that they are the dark sides of moons and don’t deserve the bright suns in their lives.”

 

Chanyeol immediately knows what’s going on, and he forces himself to remain seated for the _greater good of things_ even though his legs are beginning to shake and his hands are clenching onto the edges of his chair. He knows that his facial expression is anything but jolly, but he’s unable to rearrange it into a more Chanyeol-fitting one because what he’s feeling right now is everything but what Boyfriend-Chanyeol is supposed to be feeling. Delight and pride for his boyfriend who seems to be about to reveal their entire past to strangers? Don’t be foolish.

 

But he will most definitely be foolish if he lets his brain get its way. Running away isn’t the solution, even though Chanyeol’s been thinking that it is for the past few weeks. He’s never felt more exhausted, both physically and mentally, for he keeps restricting himself from making unnecessary contact with the person who’s been plaguing his dreams slash nightmares every night. And it was in a moment of weakness that Chanyeol finally listened to his heart, plucking up the courage to see the person in a light that he’d never seen him in before.

 

And Chanyeol’s entranced. The soft spotlights that beam down upon Kyungsoo make him look like an angel (in jeans and tee), and the devastatingly beautiful image captivates Chanyeol, holds his heart hostage.

 

“I used to believe in that, too, years ago. Until the brightest sun, that I’ve the pleasure to meet, changed that.” A smile forms. “This first song is the song that the bright sun in my life sang to me on the day he told me that he’d like a dark side of a moon to orbit in his galaxy.”

 

Chanyeol feels his heart pound. Feels perspiration forming on his palms.

 

“To all the dark sides of moons out there, I just want to say that it’s time for you to pluck up the courage and allow bright suns into your galaxies; just like I did, because what I thought of then is what I’m thinking of now and that is _all of me loves all of you_.”

 

That night, as the audience sways and softly sings along to the tune of an ever-familiar song, Chanyeol finds himself standing at crossroads. His brain stands at one end, while his heart stands at the other. Chanyeol is in the middle. He doesn’t know which end to go to, which road to step on.

 

He doesn’t know what to do.

  
  


\---

  
  


Kyungsoo does. He knows what he has to do and he will do it.

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t call himself the Dark Side of the Moon for nothing.

  
  


\---

  
  


Kyungsoo already knew.

 

He already knew that something was up the moment Chanyeol asked him out for a meal on the last weekday of the week. He had been scrolling through his text messages with Yixing, smiling fondly at the last one he sent him an hour ago before his 9AM lecture— _TGIF! I don’t think I can stomach another day of school without puking information outttttt ugh_ —when an alert banner appears at the top of his screen bearing a Chinese name that he’d recognise anywhere.

 

(The boy may be in his father’s hometown but he doesn’t forget the city he was brought up in. Chinese characters soothe the constant headaches that plague him whenever he’s tasked by lecturers to read up and those pesky Korean characters never fail to fuck up his eyes and mind.)

 

// _Let’s meet up for dinner?_ //

 

Chanyeol doesn’t ask him out for meals during weekdays. He does them on weekends, and that only happens when Kyungsoo’s not having a shift. And, unfortunately, he can count the number of times they’ve gone out on such meal dates or dates in general on two– no, _one_ hand ever since the pair of exes began to date again a little more than two months ago.

 

Yet, while he had been disappointed and rather upset at Chanyeol’s lack of initiative towards wanting to spend more time together, Kyungsoo didn’t let him know. He didn’t want to let anyone know for that matter of fact because even though they’ve gotten back together, nothing seems to have changed.

 

They still behave as they have been—like acquaintances, not lovers. It is as though they’re both afraid of stepping into each other’s territories, afraid of overstepping boundaries that formed within these two years of separation. No move was made to get to know these unsaid boundaries, to rid each other of the ever-present atmosphere of awkwardness that envelops them whenever they choose to meet.

 

So when Kyungsoo is halfway through his bowl of _kimchi jjigae_ , with a spoonful of _kimchi_ and rice shoved into his mouth, Chanyeol finally blurts out the words he’s been waiting to hear. He doesn’t even choke. In fact, Kyungsoo doesn’t even spare a second of chewing his food to express his (non-existent) shock. He swallows it before stuffing another spoon into his mouth.

 

Kyungsoo isn’t, not in the least, bewildered when Chanyeol says, “Let’s break up.”

 

He just quietly asks, “May I ask why…? Why are you breaking up with me, Chanyeol?”

 

If Chanyeol is baffled by Kyungsoo’s unusual display of calm, his face doesn’t betray anything. He just sets his spoon down to say, “Do Kyungsoo, do you remember the relationship that we had back in high school? Do you remember how there were absolutely no feelings deposited in it from your end because it was all a _fucking bet_?”

 

There’s an ugly expression on Chanyeol’s face, evidently displaying the hatred that’s been simmering within him. “Well.” His lips curl upwards into a snarl.

 

“This relationship is just like that. Except, this time round, it’s for revenge.”

 

Those words should have riled Kyungsoo up. Those words were _vile_ , and so accusatory. Anyone would have gotten angry, mad, _furious_. They would have stood up, grabbed the cup of water before throwing its contents right at Chanyeol’s face. They would have stomped off without a word, or they might have yelled back. They would have done _anything_ to display their fury, done _everything_ to clear those accusations.

 

Yet, Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t do anything. He just drops his eyes, bites back his curses, swallows them with yet another spoon of _kimchi jjigae_ and rice. After that spoonful, he puts down his spoon, wipes his mouth with the provided napkin. He pointedly avoids Chanyeol’s sudden gaze of confusion towards his bizarre response. Just because whatever Chanyeol says seems to be earth-shattering, they don’t warrant an equally consequential reaction.

 

Kyungsoo is the Dark Side of the Moon; he doesn’t do incredibly loud actions (unlike a certain Bright Sun).

 

He quietly stacks his bowls, placing them atop one another as carefully as possible so as to not make a sound. The establishment that they’ve chosen to eat in is pretty loud, the dinner crowd in Seoul as rowdy and spirited as the people frequenting the Zhangs’ family restaurant back in China. Kyungsoo has always felt comfortable taking his meals in such environments, but this time he’s not.

 

Instead, he feels restless. Since the objective of this dinner has been revealed and accomplished, there’s no reason for Kyungsoo to stay any longer.

 

“Thank you for the meal.” Kyungsoo stands. His eyes are still fixated on his stacked bowls. He still feels Chanyeol’s eyes on him but he doesn’t return his gaze. He does, however, fold his body into a formal bow. Kyungsoo may be the Dark Side, but he has manners.

 

“Goodbye, Chanyeol.”

 

Then, he flees.

  
  


\---

  
  


_“Do it.”_

 

_“Do what?” Chanyeol tears his eyes away from his laptop screen, fingers reaching up to remove the spectacles that’s been slowly slipping down his nose for the past two hours of tackling his assignment. Year Two of college is crazy. Dating his ex-boyfriend is crazier._

 

 _But what’s craziest of all is the fucking dilemma he’s gotten himself stuck in—to break up, or not break up. Which basically translates to: revenge, or no revenge. It’s crazy. Insane, actually, because it fucking makes no sense for one to suddenly have an epiphany a couple of weeks into his new relationship and it screws up his thoughts and won’t go away no matter how he attempts to push it to the recesses of his mind. The epiphany drives him nuts, causing his brain to think of nothing but it most of the time. His life is fucked up because of it. His_ new _relationship is fucked up because of it._

 

 _“Are you seriously asking me that, Park Chanyeol?” Baekhyun stares at his best friend incredulously. “Whatever happened to that breakdown you had at_ my _workplace when_ I _was working three days ago? Mind you, you almost cost me my job, and half of our bills and rent.” He smacks Chanyeol’s arm, nimbly avoiding the retaliation._

 

_“This fucking assignment has been a bitch, so please spare me from more shit,” Chanyeol spits out as he glares at Baekhyun. He soon groans, though, when darkness begins to dot his vision and he quickly buries his face in his hands, hoping that the warmth from his palms will relieve the strain building up in his eyes._

 

 _“Break up with Kyungsoo. There, I said it. This is my answer to the question you asked, no,_ screamed _, at me three days ago. You asked me what you ought to do and this is my answer after thoroughly thinking it through.”_

 

_The moment he hears Baekhyun say the B-word, Chanyeol freezes. The warmth that has been emanating from his palms suddenly turns cold, and he feels the ache returning to his eyes again. He slowly removes his hands from his face, lifting his head and opening his eyes for them to meet with his best friend’s. Chanyeol sees the light shining in them, and he believes._

 

_After all, Baekhyun wouldn’t lie to him._

  
  


\---

  
  


Byun Baekhyun is a fucking liar.

 

“Dammit!” Chanyeol curses under his breath as he gazes out of the cab’s window and absentmindedly watches the streets pass by in a blur. One of his hand has fisted itself in his jeans while the other is gripping onto his phone, the screen showing a single name, though typed in Chinese, that he’d recognise anywhere. He’s been calling the same number for the past thirty minutes, praying with all his might and heart and soul and whatever he has to offer from his foolish mortal self that his call will be picked up.

 

_“I am so sorry, Yeol, I am so, so sorry for only telling you now.”_

 

“Fuck that Byun,” Chanyeol swears under his breath again, and he tears his eyes away from the blurry scenery to rest them on his phone screen. The call doesn’t get picked up, again. Chanyeol punches the _try again_ option before redirecting his eyes to the cab driver. “I am so sorry _ahjusshi_ , but could you go even faster? I… have a plane to catch.”

 

The driver _tsks_ loudly, and through the rearview mirror Chanyeol spies an eye roll. Yet, the _ahjusshi_ gently says, “You’re not carrying any luggage, boy.” And it’s then does Chanyeol realise that the man might know more than what he’s been letting on.

 

“But that plane must be carrying something extremely important of yours.”

 

Chanyeol opens his mouth to reply, but finds it inexplicably dry. So he settles for a nod instead, hoping that the driver can see it from the corner of his eyes or something. The man must have, for he answers, “Don’t worry, boy, I’ll get you there. Hang tight.”

  


The _ahjusshi_ gets Chanyeol there.

 

(“UGH FUCK!” Chanyeol bellows in frustration as he crumples onto the smooth, shiny tiled floor of Incheon Airport. The departure board looms over him with flight numbers, names of countries, and gate numbers flashing on the screen. The particular flight number that he’s been staring at for the past few minutes is right at the top of the list, and anyone with common sense knows what’s happening—the plane is about to take off.)

 

He just doesn’t get Chanyeol there _on time._

 

It’s with an extremely heavy heart does the tall boy pick himself off the floor, after getting loads of suspicious looks and he’s sure as hell that someone’s going to call security soon. So Chanyeol drags his feet and plops down onto an empty bench before hunching over, burying his face in his hands. He wants to cry his heart out.

 

And he does. But his heart is already gone, having been stolen by the person whose plane has already left the soils of South Korea.

 

Chanyeol wants to blame Baekhyun. But he, of all people, knows very well that he can’t fault his best friend. He can’t fault anyone, really.

 

Because, it’s all his fault. Chanyeol’s reaping what he’s sown.

 

“Goodbye, Kyungsoo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you noticed the pattern of my updates, you'll know when i'll update next (hehe) 
> 
> thank you for reading, and comments will be greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> ps, i know i see the mistakes too but editing would take a long while and...


	3. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forever sappy and so the posting of the story has been planned right from the start
> 
> anyways, HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHANYEOLLLLLLL(-oppa) 
> 
> thank you for your wonderful and emotional rap + fond rubbing-slash-caressing of my boy soo's head /sighs fondly why i so trash for chansoo

_ “Say, do you come to the rooftop often?” _

 

_ “Mm, I do. Why?”  _

 

_ “Do you, perhaps—I’m just asking—leave bottles of herbal tea at the door?”  _

 

_ A sharp inhale. “How… did you know?” _

 

_ “Would you believe me if I'm telling you now that I’m the one who’s been playing those tunes you’ve been hearing each time you come here?” _

 

_ Silence. Then, “No way. The guitar player… is you?” _

 

_ “Yeah.”  _

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “Are you disappointed?” _

 

_ “I– I don’t–  _ Wait, _ how can you be so sure that it was me? How did you know that it was me who’s been listening and leaving behind bottles of tea? I don’t believe I’ve ever–” _

 

_ A deep chortle. “I saw you once, or just your back view anyway. So I kept an eye out, and what do you know. There’s only one boy whose back that matches the one I’ve seen.” _

 

_ “... Dammit, I knew I would be in trouble someday.”  _

 

_ “I’m… trouble?”  _

 

 _“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a victim of bullying. So I’ve adjusted myself to stay out of trouble, to not attract unwanted attention to myself. I have no friends, and most definitely do not want to make friends. So why, yes,_ you’re trouble _.”_

 

_ “...” _

 

_ “Thank you for staying with me while I was unconscious.” The sound of hands dusting against fabric, then footsteps upon concrete. “But I must get going, and hopefully we will never meet nor talk again.”  _

 

_ The sound of the knob turning. The creak of door hinges. A soft  _ ah, heck it!

 

_ Then, “Wait! Kyungsoo!”  _

 

_ The creaking stops.  _

 

_ “I want to be friends with you.”  _

 

_ A groan. “What part of–” _

 

_ “We will pretend to be strangers in places that aren’t here. But when we’re here, we’re friends. I promise, I will not speak to you at all in the hallways or anywhere else. I will only talk to you here, on the rooftop. Is this– Is this arrangement alright with you?”  _

 

_ Silence.  _

 

_ “I really, really,  _ really _ want to be friends with my first fan–” _

 

_ “Who the hell is your first fan?!”  _

 

_ “You.” Rustling of fabric, then heavy footsteps on concrete. “Are you not? Were those bottles of tea not signs of admiration?”  _

 

_ “...”  _

 

 _“Hee, I knew it. You_ are _a fan of my guitar playing.”_

 

_ “Shut up.” _

 

_ “So I take it that you agree to being my friend…?” _

 

_ A raspberry. “Fine.” Then, a loud shriek. “What are you doing!? Put me down this instance!”  _

 

_ “I’m happy! You’re my friend now! My first fan is my friend!”  _

 

_ “You giant ass, put me down! Right now!”  _

 

_ “Yippee!”  _

 

_ “Park Chanyeol!”  _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“You’re insufferable.”

 

“My sentiments exactly.”

 

“Ass.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

Baekhyun throws a cushion at the boy sprawled on the couch, bottom lip sliding out in a pout when the cushion is easily caught. He throws another. It gets caught, too. Baekhyun flings his hands in the air and sulks all the way to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, wincing when cool air assaults him and he’s momentarily stunned when he registers the emptiness within. He sighs. 

 

“By the way, when are you going to stop moping? It’s been–” Baekhyun glances at the clock on the wall as he gently closes the fridge door. “–a week since you’ve decided to make our  _ only  _ couch your new bed and did I tell you how much I hate you? I literally have nowhere to sit on to watch TV comfortably.” 

 

“You were the one who kept choosing the times of when I’m here to watch your shows, so technically, you can’t blame me,” Chanyeol readily retorts from the living room, his lanky frame still draped over the aforementioned couch. He’s throwing one of the cushions into the air, catching it before it lands on his face. It’s not much fun doing that—throwing and catching—over a period of time, actually, but Chanyeol will do anything to distract himself. 

 

Which includes choking on dust. 

 

He shoots up, flinging the blasted cushion away from his face as he thumps his chest in an attempt to gorilla-beat the dust out of his airway. Chanyeol succeeds, but only after hearing an earful of Baekhyun’s sniggers and catching a glimpse of his manic  _ this is karma bitch  _ expression when Baekhyun sits on the coffee table, buttered bread in hand. A cup of water is thrusted into the space between them. 

 

But as much as Baekhyun is  _ insufferable  _ and  _ an ass _ , Chanyeol can’t deny that he’s also a very good person; kind and caring (when Baekhyun chooses to be; and especially in front of a certain  _ Chinese boy _ ), and the elder of the two same-aged friends also possesses one of the warmest hearts Chanyeol’s ever known. Those late nights of tackling homework and assignments together, and, oh, also those first few months of, well, after China. All in all, Baekhyun’s just awesome ( _ no one tell him that, please _ ). 

 

Plus, he’s his best friend so even if Chanyeol regrets befriending him (which he has, frankly), there’s nothing he can do about it anymore. Baekhyun and Chanyeol are (best) friends for life. 

 

So it’s with a silent _thank you_ expressed in the form of a small smile does Chanyeol take the cup. He sips on it, his eyes are pointedly avoiding Baekhyun’s. The atmosphere feels weird now, but it’s nothing that Chanyeol hasn’t experienced before, for Baekhyun’s been trying to wheedle words, _explanations_ out of him for the past seven days now. And Chanyeol’s been resisting, but Baekhyun’s never one to give up. Which is to say that the boy will seize _every_ chance he’s got to make Chanyeol confess, _pour out his heartfelt words_ _about_ …

 

“In a bid to prevent your inevitable obesity that will no doubt develop during the break, I’ve signed us up for a programme,” Baekhyun says, eyes giving up on trying to establish contact with his best friend’s, instead focusing on his half-eaten bread which he shoves into his mouth. “Pack wor wuggage–”

 

“For the love of  _ kimchi _ , Hyun! Swallow!” Chanyeol chastises. “I don’t want to see my friend dying on a piece of buttered bread!” He quickly lifts the cup in his hand to Baekhyun’s lips, tilting it slightly towards his mouth. In between sips of water and gulps of soggy buttered bread, Baekhyun tries hard to not snicker at Chanyeol’s berating expression. It’s cute on him, actually. (Not that Baekhyun will ever tell his best friend that. Chanyeol’s giant ego, along with his large-everything, doesn’t need boosts.)

 

“Thanks for your concern but buttered bread won’t kill anyone.” smirks Baekhyun, and Chanyeol rolls his eyes. He gets up, stretches his arms overhead while he makes his way to the kitchen. After several moments of bumbling about, noises of opening and closing cupboards, Baekhyun makes his way over as well. And well, well, _well_ _what do we have here?_

 

“Buttered bread. Really, Yeol?” 

 

Chanyeol laughs. “It doesn’t have the ability to kill anyone, so why not?” He wiggles his brows. “And it’s the simplest form of breakfast, so why  _ yes _ , Baekhyun, buttered bread.” He manages to haphazardly balance two slices on the rim of the butter container as he washes the butter knife in the sink.

 

“By the way,” Chanyeol asks over his shoulder. “What was that last thing you said with your mouth full?” 

 

“Ah.” Baekhyun scratches his head as he sets the empty cup down on the countertop. Chanyeol sends him confused glances while he places the butter container back into the fridge, bread clamped between his teeth. He takes a huge bite and proceeds to chew. It’s then does Baekhyun continue, “I said to pack your luggage.” 

 

“Why?” Chanyeol swallows and takes another bite. “We’re going overseas? What programme did you sign us up for?” 

 

“Well… It’s one of the many winter break programmes our university has organised for us, so I’ve somehow managed to get us into the overseas immersion trip.” 

 

The knowing grin on Baekhyun’s face is alarming. Chanyeol instantly stills. An ominous cloud descends upon him in an instant, making him forget about the large piece of half-chewed bread in his mouth. “Hyun…” 

 

“Surprise! We’re going to—drum roll please!” Baekhyun attempts to imitate a drum  ~~ and fails spectacularly ~~ . He throws his hands up into the air. 

 

“China!” 

 

And Chanyeol becomes the first person in South Korea to die by choking on buttered bread.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Six months is, frankly, a long time. 

 

“Aieeeeeee! Finally! I see you, my wondrous bed!” 

 

Yixing stands at the doorway, the urge to snicker washing over him as he amusedly watch Kyungsoo throw himself onto his bed, limbs darting in all directions like a starfish. He lands with a soft  _ oof _ , but a muffled moan of satisfaction follows shortly. 

 

“You’re such a drama king.” 

 

Kyungsoo flips himself over in the speed of Zhang  _ ba-ba _ ’s insane omelette flipping. “I dare you to say that to my aching back, Zhang Yixing.” His infamous volcanic-temperature glare makes its appearance, only to vanish when he realises that the boy hasn’t flinched nor cower under his supposedly impressive stare. Dammit, he’s losing his touch. 

 

Time to go on  _ Baidu  _ and search for more murderous expressions to imitate. 

 

“I also dare you to say that to my chapped fingers who have suffered together with me as I,  _ alone _ , cleaned our dust-filled apartment in less than three days and just when I thought that I’d be able to rest the next day, a certain  _ xiao mian yang  _ insists that I help him out at his family restaurant.” Kyungsoo sits up and folds his arms across his chest. 

 

“And guess what? That was  _ one week  _ ago.” 

 

Yixing just shrugs. “I plead guilty to the above counts of, ah, supposed mistreatment towards a best friend, but you know how helpless I am when it comes to my family, Soo.” He drops his eyes and begins to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “ _ Ba-ba  _ really needs the help, especially on weekends, and even though he has Feifei- _ jie _ now and, okay, the restaurant  _ is _ rather small, but the two of them just can’t handle the rapid turnover.” 

 

Yixing is playing with his own fingers now. “He didn’t want to admit it, but I know that he got the boys to help him out on a couple of nights, consecutively, during our absence–”

 

“He did?” 

 

“Yeah. Yifan and Zitao confessed after I got Han to spit it out. Apparently,  _ ba-ba  _ had told them to keep their moonlighting activities from me.” The boy lets out a soft displeased growl as he cards a hand through his hair. “I’d be lying if I told you that I don’t feel guilty for causing such inconvenience to both the boys and  _ ba-ba _ .”

 

“Then… do you regret going to Seoul with me, Xing?”

 

It’s then does Yixing lift his head, and Kyungsoo finds his answer in the boy’s pair of eyes. He sees the twinkling stars, and also the mysterious moon in them, and  _ wow _ , they’re so bright, so  _ clear _ —as clear as the sky on a cloudless night. Kyungsoo hasn’t lost himself in Yixing’s beautiful orbs for a long time now, ever since his parents passed and he was left to the care of his aging  _ po-po _ . Though young in age, Yixing has always wisely (and smugly) remarked that Kyungsoo performs best after looking into his eyes, and why,  _ yes _ , five-year-old Yixing had been right. 

 

So when Kyungsoo reads his answer—a resounding  _ no I do not regret _ —in the clarity of his eyes, his mind whirs and he knows what Yixing is going to say after. 

 

“Because if I hadn’t, you’d be...”

 

As mentioned, Kyungsoo is at his best after losing himself in his childhood friend’s eyes, so it’s no wonder that he hears an unsaid  _ alone  _ lingering in the air as Yixing’s voice trails off into silence. He sees that Yixing’s gone back to fiddling with his shirt hem, chin tilted downwards and those bright eyes are no longer willing to let him see his reflection in them. But it’s okay, Kyungsoo is more than content with that short span of time Yixing’s kindly given him. He’s grateful, and he makes it known with a gentle  _ thanks Xing _ . 

 

The room lapses into comfortable silence, with both persons turning to playing with their hems to pass the time. Kyungsoo doesn’t know why Yixing’s still standing in his doorway when he always takes the first shower after their long hours at the Zhangs’ restaurant, but he stays silent, choosing to wait for Yixing because twenty years of friendship has him knowing deep down that the boy probably still has something he wishes to discuss. And true enough, he does. 

 

“Bumping into Chanyeol was unfortunate, and it resulted in initial discomfort for the both of you. But when you began to date him again, I could see the affection and fondness you used to have for him resurfacing in you, and likewise in him as well. So when you suddenly told me that you broke up with him, I couldn’t believe it. I  _ couldn’t _ . I couldn’t grasp–”

 

“Xing–”

 

“–couldn’t understand why you did what you did.” Yixing lifts his head again, this time with a different set of emotions from the previous, but his eyes—his eyes are still so bright, so  _ clear _ . Clear with disbelief and confusion. “But then Baekhyun came to me, told me some things, but despite all that, I didn't understand. And right now, honestly, I still don’t, and neither does Baekhyun.”

 

“Xing, what did Baekhyun–”

 

“We can’t comprehend why you told Baekhyun to do what he did.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ “Tell him to do it.”  _

 

_ Baekhyun freezes, mop pausing in the middle of a large circle that he’s drawing on the floor with it. He looks up to see his shift mate staring down at him with a certain air of determination enveloping him.  _

 

_ “Tell who to do what, Kyungsoo?”  _

 

_ “Chanyeol.” Kyungsoo’s determined expression doesn’t falter even as Baekhyun straightens himself. _

 

_ “Tell Chanyeol to go through with his revenge plan.”  _

 

_ Baekhyun inhales sharply, eyes blowing wide. Shock. Fear. Kyungsoo sees them all. _

 

_ “How do you know? How–” _

 

_ “It doesn't matter.” Kyungsoo shakes his head, but the same determined expression that's been etched on his countenance doesn't even erase itself for a bit. If anything, he thinks it’s been growing stronger with every passing second.  _

 

_ “Just get him to break up with me.”  _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo wakes up to a shriek that sounds very familiar to his ears.

 

“Xing…” Groaning, he pulls the pillow out from under his head and turns to lie on his tummy. The pillow is placed at the back of his head, hands pressing down against the sides to obscure his ears. Kyungsoo still hears Yixing shrieking.

 

He buries his face even deeper into the mattress, and increases the strength of his hands to press the pillow even harder against his ears. Thankfully, Yixing stops shrieking a few seconds later.  _ But _ he begins to speak at the top of his lungs, and a couple of  _ no no no why are you doing this why are you even bothering _ travels to the boy’s ears. Though, while Kyungsoo’s most definitely not amused with the morning ruckus, his curiosity of  _ who  _ his best friend is talking to and  _ what  _ they’re talking about gets him up.

 

Kyungsoo removes the pillow and neatly, but quietly, makes his bed. He silently tiptoes towards the door, pulls it slightly ajar. Yixing’s pacing figure immediately crosses into his narrow field of sight.  _ Why is he pacing? And with a rather angry expression to boot.  _ Kyungsoo’s quickly confused, though a little amused because Yixing hardly allows his emotions to be shown on his face, or through his body language. This back-and-forth pacing in the living room and that glum look on his face are queer behaviour. Kyungsoo has to find out what’s getting his best friend this riled up. 

 

“Look, I don’t get what you’re trying to pull here, but don’t bother trying what you’re thinking of trying.” Kyungsoo hears Yixing say, his tone harsh and rough. He can’t see him; Yixing’s probably stopped somewhere near the television and out of his narrow line of vision. No matter, though; he’s still able to hear him loud and clear. “I can’t stop you guys from coming, but I can stop you guys from coming _here_.” 

 

_ Huh?  _

 

Does that even make sense? What on earth is Yixing going on about? Did he hear what nonsense he seems to be spouting? How can you stop someone from coming here when you’ve allowed him to come? 

 

Kyungsoo obviously doesn’t understand a thing his childhood friend is saying, and Yixing’s current monotonous tone of voice isn’t offering much insight into this really weird situation as well. So,  _ what the heck _ , Kyungsoo pushes his luck and decides to widen his narrow field of vision by opening the door a little more… only to find Yixing staring at him. 

 

_ Oh fuck.  _

 

The pair of childhood friends’ expressions are the same. Round eyes betraying the single emotion that they’re feeling within, jaws slowly slackening as the weight of being found out seeps into their brains and– 

 

“I’ve got to go– but this conversation _isn’t over_ ,” Yixing hastily says at the same time–

 

–Kyungsoo shuts the door, locking it a split second before the knob rattles. 

 

“Soo! Open up!” 

 

“No! I will not!” Kyungsoo hollers back, keeping his hands on the knob, body leaning heavily on the door itself as if it’s not locked and he’s actually pushing against it to prevent it from being pushed open by Yixing from the outside. “You’re going to torture me, then kill me! And throw me into the ocean!” 

 

“What are you talking about!?” The knob jiggles in Kyungsoo’s hands and his fear spikes with each turn. 

 

“Don’t make me get the key!”

 

Kyungsoo actually  _ smirks  _ when he hears this. “You don’t know where it is! I’m the master of this apartment, only  _ I  _ know where–”

 

“It’s in the box of keys that you neatly placed in the first drawer of the cupboard where you placed the first aid box, the hammer, screwdrivers, and the hot glue. Oh, and also the drill. Which, if I remember the words  _ you  _ told  _ me  _ on the first day when I moved in, is in the living room.” 

 

There’s a smirk in Yixing’s tone. That fucker. 

 

“I’m giving you five seconds.” And the boy begins to count down. “Five. Four. Three. Two. Ooooooonnnnnnn–”

 

“Remind me why I agreed to you moving in.” is the first thing Kyungsoo deadpans when he opens the door. And he instantly regrets it when Yixing’s utterly disgusting smirk greets him. “Ugh! That expression is nasty on your face!” 

 

Yixing snorts. “ _ Thank you  _ for the compliment, my love. Now, if you’d excuse me.” He pushes the door open and steps inside, easily making his way over to the only bed in the room and— _ oh my god this boy _ —throws himself onto the neatly-made bed. Kyungsoo very much wants to kick his– 

 

“You have five seconds to tell me  _ who _ you were yelling at and  _ what  _ you were yelling about before I actually muster up the guts to knee you in the–” Kyungsoo pauses for a couple of seconds to allow for the unsaid word (which he knows damn well that Yixing knows) to sink in, before he starts counting down. “Five. Four. Three. Two. Ooooooonnnnnnn–”

 

“Baekhyun’s coming to China.” 

 

“–ne– Wait, what?  _ Who’s _ coming to China?” 

 

Yixing’s sitting up by then, the rather angry expression that Kyungsoo’s seen just minutes before forming on his friend’s handsome face. Then it softens, a glum look appearing. It doesn't mask the hardness in his eyes. Kyungsoo feels (a little) scared.

 

“Baekhyun’s coming here on an immersion trip.” 

 

“To… China?”

 

“Specifically,  _ our  _ city.”

 

Kyungsoo blinks. Blinks again. Then blinks  _ again _ . Okay. So Byun Baekhyun, employee of Boss Joonmyeon’s hole-in-the-wall beverage joint, is allowed to apply for leave of duration—unknown—to come here (which is actually a feat in itself given the joint’s severe lack of employees since the pair of Chinese exchange students left), to China. To  _ specifically  _ their city on an immersion trip. Wow. China is so damn huge with hundreds of cities but he  _ just  _ has to pick this one. 

 

Good on you, Byun. 

 

_ Good. On. You. _

 

“I’m going to  _ kill _ him when I see him,” Kyungsoo snarls as he darts his eyes to Yixing’s face. The glum expression is gone, and in its place is a withering look that makes him look years older than he actually is. Something is off. Something’s not right. And Kyungsoo makes it known to Yixing, who sighs into his hand and drags it down his wizened face. 

 

“Baekhyun’s not the problem here, Soo. He’s the  _ least  _ of your–  _ our  _ problems.” 

 

“Okay, so?” Kyungsoo makes his way to his bed and plops down next to Yixing. He rests a hand on his shoulder, surprised to find it trembling. In fact, when he places his other hand on Yixing’s other shoulder and turns the boy to face him, he realises that Yixing’s  _ entire  _ body is shaking. 

 

Shit. The problem must be really, really bad. 

 

“What’s… going on, Xing? You’re scaring me! What exactly did Baekhyun tell–” 

 

“Chanyeol’s coming with him.” 

 

At that, Kyungsoo instantly freezes. His fingers unconsciously tighten their grip on Yixing’s shoulders, only to release them when Yixing winces and grunts. Kyungsoo immediately apologizes, “I’m sorry, Xing. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

 

“It’s okay,” Yixing replies, the cadence of his voice mellow and soothing and just so  _ Yixing _ . “I’m alright, Soo.” An arm comes up and goes around Kyungsoo’s shoulders while a hand reaches up to his head, cups his face and gently pushes it onto Yixing’s shoulder. The hand begins to caress Kyungsoo’s cheek. “On the other hand, how about you? Are you okay, Soo?”

 

A sniffle. “I’m okay.” Then, an afterthought. “I’ll just meet with Baekhyun alone for a meal or something. I won’t allow him to bring Chanyeol along because the last person he’ll want to see is me anyway. And if you want to come along with us, Xing, we could bring Baekhyun around the city. If Chanyeol wants to come along… Well, I’m staying home. I don’t want to see him. There’s no way I would want to… see him.”

 

A  _ long  _ afterthought.

 

Kyungsoo nuzzles his face into the crook of Yixing’s neck, pressing his closed eyes into smooth skin. He knows it’s ticklish for his friend, but as Yixing’s warmth begins to seep through his eyelids and envelop his eyes, Kyungsoo silently apologizes while pressing his face deeper into the juncture. 

 

It’s silent for a moment, before Yixing speaks. The boy’s soft inhale before he does should have warned Kyungsoo.

 

“Soo, Baekhyun told Chanyeol. He told him  _ everything _ .” 

 

Kyungsoo feels as though his world is crumbling around him. Bits and pieces, parts and parts. They’re all silently falling to shambles around him. The whisper that ghosts out of his mouth is deathly soft. 

 

“Every… thing?”

 

He feels Yixing nod. “Yeah, he told Chanyeol everything.” Two arms are now wrapped tightly around Kyungsoo. The warmth pooling in Kyungsoo’s eyes are beginning to heat up. It’s starting to sear.

 

“Chanyeol knows that you’re the one who wanted him to break up with you.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ “Chanyeol, I… have something to tell you.” _

 

_ Said boy in question lazily tilts his head upwards to rest the back of it on the couch as he quips back in answer, “What's up?”  _

 

_ Baekhyun is uncharacteristically quiet. He’s twiddling his thumbs, and his posture is unbelievably straight; if Chanyeol hadn’t known his best friend, he'd think that the boy is about to shit in his pants (not that he’s  _ seen  _ it in person). Yet, even though Chanyeol’s noticed his best friend’s really out-of-character behaviour (really, Baekhyun is almost  _ never  _ quiet), he doesn't comment on it. _

 

_ “Remember when I told you to go ahead with the revenge plan, and you asked me why you should?” Baekhyun’s voice is quivering, another extremely out-of-character behaviour and as Chanyeol’s mind puts together everything he’s seen thus far, this Baekhyun that’s hovering above him is honestly beginning to scare him.  _

 

_ This isn’t the Baekhyun that he knows. _

 

_ The Baekhyun that Chanyeol knows wouldn’t be avoiding his searching eyes… unless he has something to hide from him.  _

 

_ Is Baekhyun truly hiding something from him, then?  _

 

But… what could he be keeping from me?

 

_ “Yeah,” Chanyeol slowly says, eyes trying to catch his best friend’s avoiding ones. “You told me to not bother with the details, and practically yelled at me to  _ JUST BREAK UP WITH HIM ALREADY _. So, how could I forget?”  _

 

_ Baekhyun flinches, but an apologetic smile makes its way onto his face. “I’m sorry about that. Your reluctance to do so didn’t give me much of a choice.” Chanyeol opens his mouth, about to spit out a retort when Baekhyun quickly continues, “Not that I gave you the appropriate justification to want to go through with the plan anyway. So yeah, it’s my fault.” His eyes finally lift themselves from the ground and meet with Chanyeol’s.  _

 

_ “But now I’m ready to tell you. I’m... ready to come clean.” He licks his lips. “Yeol, I’m not the one who wants you to complete the revenge plan.”  _

 

_ Chanyeol’s blank facial expression is a clear indication of him not catching up with the situation. He  _ really  _ hasn’t understood the weight of Baekhyun’s words, for Chanyeol’s just staring at his friend with his mouth unattractively open.  _ _ A fly is going to make its home in there. _

 

_ “Yeol? Chanyeol?” Baekhyun waves a hand in front of Chanyeol’s spaced-out face, only stopping when the boy’s round orbs blink and consciousness floods back into his face. “Are you okay?”  _

 

_ “Yeah,” Chanyeol breathes, squeezing his eyes shut for a couple of seconds before opening them. Determination starts to seep into them. “Then, who’s the one who wants me to finish the plan if it’s not you? Because I’m certain only you and I know about it.” Chanyeol grows suspicious, and he narrows his eyes. Baekhyun’s furtive expression manages to fit into his limited field of vision. “Hyun… What’s going on?”  _

 

_ “Well–” _

 

_ “Spit it out!” Chanyeol growls, his patience suddenly drastically dropping to almost zero percent when he senses Baekhyun attempting to beat around the bush again. “Just fucking tell me already!” _

 

_ Chanyeol’s rare curse shocks Baekhyun, and it effectively makes the latter spill what his mind has long prepared its owner to confess ever since Baekhyun realises that he doesn’t want to let Chanyeol keep on believing that he was the one who told him to go through with the revenge plan when he wasn’t the one. In all honesty—according to Baekhyun—after much thought and consideration, he had wanted Chanyeol to  _ not  _ break up with Kyungsoo. He saw the good that came once again to his best friend—Chanyeol smiled more, his mood was almost always happy, and most of all, his heart no longer  _ yearned  _ for that heartworm from two years ago because he has  _ it  _ again. _

 

_ But as fate would have it, Baekhyun met with the deal breaker on the day he was supposed to tell Chanyeol to not give up on his second-chance love.  _

 

_ And when he stood before Chanyeol that night, ready to tell his friend what he has never thought of, Baekhyun mentally quoted the only Shakespeare he knows. Ironically, it fits the situation.  _

 

“The course of true love never did run smooth. _ ” _

 

_ “Kyungsoo was the one who told me. He was the one who wanted you to break up with him.”  _

 

_ It’s immediate. A myriad of expressions begins to appear on Chanyeol’s face as he feels the assortment of emotions that assault him. Despite knowing that ‘confusion’ is staying longer within him, Chanyeol doesn’t know that his expression of utter confusion is worrying his best friend and freaking him out. He doesn’t register the boy jumping over the back of the couch, dropping to the space next to him on the floor. He doesn’t feel the vehement shaking of his shoulders and torso.  _

 

_ Doesn’t hear Baekhyun’s shouts of  _ Chanyeol answer me Chanyeol!

 

_ Chanyeol might as well have turned into a mannequin.  _

 

_ “Shit, the shock’s traumatised–” _

 

_ “Why did he do it.”  _

 

_ “–you– Yeol!” Baekhyun screams in relief, as Chanyeol tries to push his slumped self upright with his palms pressing against the floor only for the action to be rendered useless when Baekhyun practically throws himself at his tall friend, arms wrapping around Chanyeol’s neck and his face immediately goes for the space between the neck and shoulder. Chanyeol squirms, uncomfortable but not perturbed by this familiar warmth that’s enveloping him. If anything, it’s doing wonders for his scarred soul because– _

 

_ “Why did Kyungsoo tell you that? Why did he want to break up with me?” Chanyeol wonders out loud, confusion and disappointment evident in his tone. “And how– How did he know about our revenge plan?” _

 

_ “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry but I don’t have the answers to your questions. He didn’t tell me, and looked like he never would.” Baekhyun pulls slightly away, eyes flitting upwards to meet with Chanyeol’s large ones. “But, I think I know something.” And he blindly gropes around for Chanyeol’s hand, slipping his fingers through the gaps.  _

 

_ “He was probably there when we were talking about it. Y’know, during that shift which Joonmyeon-hyung suddenly got me to replace Yixing who couldn’t make it and I thought that he was resting at the back of the store,” Baekhyun breathes out. “Turns out he was but somehow he probably came out and–” He inhales, as though thinking about it again makes him out of breath. Chanyeol tightens his grip on his friend’s fingers.  _

 

_ “–and he overheard us.”  _

  
  
  


_ \--- _

  
  
  


The automated doors slide open silently and two pairs of feet step out into the open. A loud inhalation joins the noisy surrounding, and a snort follows seconds later. 

 

“Stop raining on my parade, you jerk.” 

 

An indignant scoff. “Well, this  _ jerk  _ wants to be on the first flight back home. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

 

“Yah, stop it.” Baekhyun lightly slaps the arm of the  _ jerk _ , flashing him a playful grin even though he’s met with a scowl. “You’re such a mood dampener, Park Chanyeol.” 

 

“It’s the air.” Chanyeol sniffs, immediately scrunching his nose and Baekhyun chuckles. He mischievously taps the tip of his friend’s nose, barely evading the retaliation only to crash into his luggage and it falls loudly to the ground. Thankfully, the arrival hall is deafeningly loud enough to mask the noise. 

 

He’s currently obscuring his face with a mask, hooking the straps around his (large) ears. And Chanyeol digs into his bag next, about to emerge with something when his hand gets slapped by another. 

 

“Don’t you dare! Don’t spoil your dear friend’s debut in China with that pair of vinyl gloves!” Baekhyun screeches, both hands reaching towards Chanyeol’s bag, fingers hurriedly zipping it up before the sight of those  _ stupid as hell  _ gloves tempt his best friend to don them. Baekhyun doesn’t know how they got inside when he’s so certain he’s wrestled them out of his friend’s vice grip before the flight (the on-the-floor brawl hadn’t been a pretty sight for the tourists at Incheon Airport) and stashed them into  _ his  _ bag. 

 

Chanyeol  _ tsks _ , upper lip curling as he grumpily heaves his haversack over his shoulder. He doesn’t know why he’s brought surgical gloves, too. Perhaps he really wants to embarrass Baekhyun, wants to tarnish his best friend’s fashion sense seeing how Baekhyun’s decked out in his Sunday best (it’s not Sunday, by the way) while Chanyeol’s just thrown on his comfiest attire fit for a flight that’s hours long. Baekhyun always has been the show-off between them. Oh well. 

 

“By the way, Yeol,” Baekhyun says as he whips out his sunglasses and smacks it onto his face (which causes Chanyeol to look up at the cloudy sky and search for the fucking sun). “This Chinese air is doing wonders for my blocked nose, so your argument about the air being presumably sucky is irrelevant.” And the boy dismissively waves his hand dangerously close to Chanyeol’s  _ why did I even bother talking to you _ face. 

 

It’s been barely thirty minutes since he’s landed in the one place he thought he would never return to. And although he doesn’t want to admit that he’s  _ happy _ —positively exhilarated, to be honest—to be back (amidst other things he's planned to do), Chanyeol actually is. He’s back. With a goal that he absolutely has to accomplish. He’s not going to return home until he has. He’s going to go home victorious.

 

(On the other hand, Chanyeol also very much wants to drag his luggage back into the airport and board the first available flight back to Seoul. [And it’s not because of the Chinese air, but because of a certain  _ Byun. _ ])

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ “I know you’re probably at the airport now, waiting for your flight, and I just want to apologise for not being able to send you off. I really wanted to, y’know. But, well, since Joonmyeon-hyung’s lost two capable employees, the only one remaining has to pick up the slack.”  _

 

_ A bitter laugh. “Just when I’ve settled into the routine of working with the two of you, four months just flew by like that and now I’m alone. Again.” A soft sigh. “Joonmyeon-hyung is going to get me to write a ‘hiring’ sign once again, then he’s going to comment on how illegible my handwriting is, which, pardon me, I beg to differ because if it was  _ that  _ illegible, how did Kyungsoo understand the previous one in the first place?”  _

 

_ A scoff. “Tsk, if Joonmyeon-hyung’s not careful, he might just find himself working all alone in that beverage joint because seriously, I feel underappreciated sometimes.” A pause. “But enough about that. I didn’t call you, not that you answered anyway since I’m talking to air and this is going into your voicemail, to rant about how unhappy I’m going to be from now on since you’re thousands of miles away instead of by my side. I called to tell you something about Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s breakup.”  _

 

_ A deep inhale. “I just told Chanyeol the same thing that I’m about to tell you now; and he’s probably dashing over to you guys as I speak, hoping to catch Kyungsoo before your flight. So I hope that you’ll hear this as soon as possible and stall your best friend long enough for that fool to get there in time. _

 

_ “He’s not the only fool, though. I’m a fool too, a dumber fool, for conveying words that I never meant to say. I’m a fool for stupidly believing that it was the right thing to do, that it was right for me to tell Chanyeol that it’s perfectly fine to go through with the revenge plan. Yes, you heard that right. Revenge plan.”  _

 

_ Another inhale, softer this time. “Yeol and I thought of it to get back at Kyungsoo for breaking his heart back then in China. Chanyeol was supposed to make Kyungsoo fall in love with him again, and at the end, he was going to reveal that everything has been nothing but a bet—a bet with me to see if he can once again make him like him. _

 

_ “It was going good. Chanyeol finally got his number after many tries, and as we all know, they began to date again. But as time progressed, Chanyeol gradually became torn. He came to me, stuck in the dilemma of whether he ought to break up with Kyungsoo or still be together with him. He didn’t tell me why, but I have eyes; I have seen them, I have seen  _ him  _ and how much more happier he has been ever since Kyungsoo came into his life again. So who was I, a bystander, to tell him that he should go through with the planned revenge, that he should break up with the love of his life?”  _

 

_ A hesitant pause.  _

 

_ “I’m very sorry, Chanyeol is very sorry as well for coming up with that revenge plan. It was stupid of us, evil of us to even think of getting back at Kyungsoo for something that happened two years ago. We’re both really, really,  _ really  _ sorry but what’s done is done and I know that apologies won’t change anything. I can almost hear you quoting that curly hair dude from the Taiwanese drama you once told me about; that if apologies worked in real life, then there wouldn’t be a need for police. Even so, I still want to apologise. As I’ve said, I fucked everything up.”  _

 

_ A short pause. “Y’know, Chanyeol wasn’t supposed to break up with Kyungsoo. On the day that I made up my mind to tell him what I wholeheartedly thought was the right thing to do, something happened. And it fucked everything up. Okay, maybe not  _ it _ , but  _ I _.  _ I  _ was the one who royally fucked everything up because I’m a fool.”  _

 

_ A ragged exhalation. “On that day, I was tasked to replace you because you suddenly came down with fever—do you remember that day?—so that meant I was working with Kyungsoo and, okay, I know you’re smart, so surely you know what I’m getting at by now. _

 

_ “Because, yes, even though I was the one who told Chanyeol to complete the plan, I’m not  _ the one  _ who wanted the breakup. Kyungsoo was the one who wanted it. He was the one who came up to me and told me straight in the face to tell Chanyeol to finish what he started. I asked him why and how he knew about it but he didn’t tell me, and looked like he would never let anyone know.”  _

 

_ A sudden sniffle. “So there you have it, the secret that I’ve been harbouring. And I would be lying if I say that I don’t feel guilty, that I don’t feel exhausted every single time I think about it. Because  _ fuck _ , I did something that I didn’t want to do and fucked everything up. Chanyeol became broody after that, and practically lived on the couch in our apartment. Even at work, I could see how spaced out Kyungsoo was, but he still pretended that he was okay, that he was unaffected by it but we all know that’s bullshit. _

 

_ “But what can I do? He told me to not let anyone know that he knows, and he won’t tell me how he found out, and why he did what he told me to do and– Just– It’s driving me nuts. THIS IS DRIVING ME FUCKING NUTS!” _

 

_ And the voicemail hears a scream that holds an exorbitant amount of frustration and utter regret. The scream dies down, and silence pervades the call once more.  _

 

_ “So if the right time comes, can you do me a favour?” A whisper, that the silence didn't offer an insight to, floats through the receiver. “Or if you’re still pissed at me, then think of it as a favour for yourself. Can you ask Kyungsoo why he did it? Why he wanted to break up with Chanyeol? Please?  _ Please _. And thank you.”  _

 

_ Silence. Then, a shrill ring. It continues. “I got to go, the house phone is ringing. It’s probably Joonmyeon-hyung, telling me to get my ass to work before I get fired.” A snicker that betrays the lack of humour.  _

 

_ “I guess this is it. This is goodbye, for us, then. It’s been really great knowing you, working with you, being friends and colleagues with you. And Kyungsoo as well, of course, but you know how bias I am towards you.” A soft, bitter laugh. “It’ll… probably take some time for me to get over you because honestly, I  _ swear _ with my heart, it really was love at first sight. I really, really like you a lot but yeah, nothing’s going to work out between us since you didn’t even develop the slightest of feelings for me after all this time. I’ve always expected it, actually. So. Well. I’m really sorry about everything, Xin– I mean, Yixing. I really am.” _

 

_ Rustle of clothes and muffled footsteps. Then a soft exhale that speaks of  _ ~~_ a million synonyms of ‘fuck, I really don't want this’ _ ~~ _ resignation. _

 

_ “Then, goodbye, Yixing.” _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo’s been watching the only other person sharing the dining table in the kitchen, taking in his non-existent hand movement with the spoon grasped in his hand  _ still  _ in the same position as it had been when he handed it to him at the start of breakfast. The meal began fifteen minutes ago. 

 

He’d be lying if he says that he isn't worried.

 

“Xing? You okay?” 

 

Yixing doesn't stir, doesn't even bat an eyelid. Kyungsoo purses his lips as he gently removes the spoon in his childhood friend’s hand and brings it up to his unmoving lips, prodding his plump lower lip. They don’t budge, and neither does the boy whose eyes are unfocused and seem to be staring at a spot above him. Resigned, but curious, Kyungsoo follows Yixing’s line of sight, turning around in his chair, only to find nothing of interest behind him. He’s confused, getting increasingly frustrated, but he manages to suppress a loud yell for a sharp “Oi, Zhang!”

 

The sudden yap somehow snaps the Chinese boy out of his daze, and he finds his mouth full of omelette when his consciousness floods into him. Yixing blinks dumbly, eliciting unabashedly loud laughter unbefitting of Kyungsoo, as he, amidst his laughter, continues to shovel spoon after spoon of egg into his friend’s mouth. Yixing just swallows everything that comes his way  dumbly .

 

“I asked if you're okay.” Kyungsoo swallows a spoon of egg of his own, taking laughter down with it and he keeps his eyes on his best friend’s pale visage. Since the boy shuffled into the kitchen minutes before he set the table for breakfast, Kyungsoo has noticed how Yixing looks like he didn't have a good night’s sleep. And now, he's determined to find out why. “Something kept you up last night?” 

 

Yixing spoons porridge from the top layer of his bowl and lets it cool under his continuous puffs of breaths. He shoves it into his mouth with as much grace as a bear if it could dance. Kyungsoo looks on disapprovingly and disappointingly as the silence tells him that his question is being ignored. 

 

But he doesn't say anything, keeping in mind of their agreement that if they've met with any unpleasant matters, they'll confide in the other when they feel like it. Yixing’s kept up with his word the other time when  _ that  _ stupid matter with  _ that  _ dude came up (ie, a week of living on the couch). It's time for him to do the same. 

 

Yet, Kyungsoo’s curiosity and amusement surface when he catches Yixing listening to his phone for several times throughout the rest of the day. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Time flies when one least expects it to, and the letters informing students of a new term of university arrive in the shared mailbox of Kyungsoo and Yixing. Kyungsoo looks down at it in distaste, tongue clucking disapprovingly as he ( _ heck it! _ ) folds the sheet of paper into an airplane and lets it fly right into Yixing’s lap. He then sifts through the rest of the letters, brows not rising as the familiar logos of utility companies greet his eyes. 

 

_ Ugh, bills _ . Kyungsoo tosses them all into Yixing’s lap, ignoring his loud  _ tch _ . “Call  _ ba-ba  _ that we can’t help him out in the day anymore.”  

 

“What about during the nights?” Yixing casually asks, fingers poking through the small pile of letters in his lap with equal disgust as Kyungsoo has for ginger in his food. He picks them all up and slides them onto the coffee table, before returning to his sitting position and he tilts his head back to look at his best friend who just sighs. 

 

“Do we even have the option to say  _ no _ ?”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Soo!” Yixing yells, as he places a plate of hot-off-the-stove stir-fried soy sauce pork next to a small bowl of steamed egg on a serving tray. The boy arrives a second later, impressively balancing two trays precariously piled with dirtied china which he hands off to Yixing, before scooping up the new tray, darting his eyes to the boy behind the counter as the unsaid signal for  _ table? _

 

“Twelve.”

 

He nods. With the familiarity of the establishment, that’s been drilled into him since he was a child, Kyungsoo sets off with the food and as he nears the servers’ counter, he even picks up a rather large kettle of jasmine tea to refill cups along the way. He dances around the tables, skirts past chairs and tiptoes through narrow pathways made by the back of chairs and edges of tables. Kyungsoo makes it to table twelve without so much as breaking a sweat or the china on the tray that he’s been balancing impressively on one hand. 

 

“Soy sauce pork? Steamed egg?” The boy politely asks as he sets down the kettle first, then places the food on the almost-full table. The diners, mostly regulars from over the years, help to shift the dishes around to make space for the new additions. With a smile, Kyungsoo collects the emptied china that one of the diners have piled nicely for him and sets them on the tray. “Enjoy your meal!” And with a curt nod of his head, he leaves the table, his fingers not forgetting to grasp the handle of the kettle and he brings the almost-empty container along. 

 

The dinner hours pass like that; Yixing barking table numbers at his childhood friend who has to serve twice as fast due to the lack of another server’s presence (Feifei- _ jie _ has come down with an unfortunate assault of stomach flu), while Kyungsoo juggles between serving food and refilling beverages. Yifan, Han, and Zitao aren’t in the town, their universities in other cities, and thus obviously aren’t available to help the establishment out. 

 

Which is why Yixing finds it strange when he turns around, after scooping two bowls of rice for a new table, to find the tray of lotus root soup and a plate of steamed pork balanced (unimpressively) on the hands of someone who is not clothed with the Zhangs’ family restaurant apron and most certainly  _ doesn’t  _ look like Kyungsoo. He almost drops the rice onto the floor. 

 

“Table number?”

 

“ _ Holy shit– _ ”

 

“Xing, table number.” The person rushes the Chinese boy, voice holding the much needed urgency of servers working in a bustling establishment with a rapid table turnover rate. “Xing!” 

 

“Fo– Four.” 

 

“On it.” 

 

And Yixing lets his eyes follow after the figure who, after almost bumping into Kyungsoo as he’s stepping out of the back room after going on a short bathroom break, briefly smiles at him before continuing to proceed through the restaurant space with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist. He senses that his gaze will be returned and Yixing hurriedly tears his eyes away from a face that he’s all too, unfortunately, acquainted with to rest them on his childhood friend’s, and he finds Kyungsoo’s expression eerily similar to his own. They look as though they’ve both chanced upon a ghost. 

 

Their reality isn’t far from that assumption, actually, because it is true. Their past has come back to haunt them.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo cannot believe what he’s hearing.

 

And neither can Yixing. 

 

“You’re lying.” The pair of childhood friends simultaneously deadpan together as they glare down at a face that they haven’t seen in almost a month, and if they’re surprised that they’ve spoken at the same time, their murderous visages do not betray that emotion. 

 

“I am not.” 

 

“You are!” Kyungsoo fiercely slams his palms down onto the table, not minding that he’s feeling the aftermath of this, regrettably, foolish action on his part by suppressing the pained groan threatening to escape his lips. Kyungsoo redirects his pain elsewhere, choosing to transmute them into growing anger stemming from raw disbelief instead. “There’s no way you’ve been working here for the past week when  _ we have been here  _ ever since we returned from Seoul!” 

 

The person, seated down on a chair across him, just shrugs. “If you don’t believe me, you can always ask  _ ba-ba _ . He knows me.” And a svelte digit points towards the kitchen where Yixing’s father is currently washing his work space, completely oblivious to the situation that’s happening in the dining area. Both Kyungsoo and Yixing plan to keep it that way; Zhang  _ ba-ba  _ doesn’t need to know about their  _ acquaintance  _ from the exchange trip that’s done more harm than good to either of them. And, he doesn’t need to know about that little fact as well, so  _ shh _ . 

 

But, if this person is saying what the pair of childhood friends are hearing the person is claiming, and that Zhang  _ ba-ba  _ knows this person…  _ Shit _ . This changes things. 

 

“This  _ doesn’t _ change anything,” Yixing corrects their thoughts, as though he’s able to read Kyungsoo’s mind as he flits his large, round eyes to him. His side profile greets him, but he sees the deep furrow of brows and severe downturn of the corners of lips. “We don’t have to believe anything you’ve said, and can just kick you out–”

 

“Who’s kicking who out?” A different voice joins the fray, and three heads snap in its direction at once.

 

Zhang  _ ba-ba  _ makes his way towards the little gathering whilst wiping his hands on a dirtied towel after which he shoves into one of the many pockets sewn on his apron when he stands behind Yixing who instantly makes a move to fully block off his father’s vision of the person seated at the round table. Kyungsoo helps, by quickly darting over to Yixing’s side and he smiles sweetly at the elder. “No one is kicking anybody,  _ ba-ba _ .”

 

But as soon as the boy finishes his sentence, a loud scoff comes from behind them. Then, an accented “They were going to kick me out of your restaurant,  _ ba-ba _ !” spoken in Chinese. And barely a second later, both Yixing and Kyungsoo find themselves pushed apart by the establishment’s head chef, only to hopelessly descend into utter shock and horror after recovering from their surprise when the sight of Yixing’s father throwing his arms around the person, who ( _ ugh fuck _ ) flashes them a peace sign, fills their sight. 

 

_ What.  _

 

“You’re here–”

 

_ The. _

 

“– _ Boxian _ !”

 

_ Fuck. _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Apparently,  _ Boxian  _ had appeared on the day when Feifei- _ jie  _ had to rush back to her university to physically hand in an assignment that she thought she only had to submit online. Unfortunately, that time had been lunch time and even though the girl had dismissed the assignment as a minor one, Zhang  _ ba-ba  _ was having none of it. He practically manhandled his employee out of the restaurant, gently pushing her out the doors, throwing her bag at her whilst fondly yelling at her  _ to go submit that piece of paper and don’t return until you do!  _

 

Feifei did as she was told, but not before keeping the doors open as two good-looking boys stopped right in front of her workplace. And after the pair of seemingly not-Chinese diners walked into the restaurant with polite bows directed at her, the Chinese girl hightailed and dashed to the nearby subway station. 

 

“By the way, I scored an A for that assignment, and got your father that spatula he’s been eyeing as thanks,” Feifei says with a grin, after she finishes her recollection of the fateful day she met  _ Boxian  _ and his friend. The grin falters when she sees the broody expressions on her younger colleagues. She sighs, “Even though they helped out Zhang- _ shu  _ in his dire time of need by being servers… I’m really sorry for letting them in?”

 

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “It’s not your fault, Feifei- _ jie _ , you didn’t know. Besides,  _ ba-ba  _ would welcome them in with open arms anyway.” The gloomy expression on his face turns into one of helplessness and resignation. 

 

“After all, he recognises one of them and knows him well enough for his face to be recalled even after two years.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Is it safe for me to visit you while you’re at work now?”

 

A thoughtful hum. “I don’t think so.” Baekhyun shakes his head morosely, as he busies himself with picking at the dry skin that’s peeling off at the pads of his fingers. It’s a known (but not publicised) fact that the boy doesn’t do household chores back in Seoul, since Chanyeol always volunteers himself  as tribute , so it’s little wonder that his delicate, pretty fingers are getting roughened up after the past two weeks of heaving trays of Chinese delicacies. “I’m still being hated there, actually.” 

 

Noticing Baekhyun’s display of an example of unhygienic practices, Chanyeol digs into his bag and emerges with a small bottle, which he throws from across the cramped and tiny ( _ read: cosy _ ) living room. It ought to have landed right in his best friend’s lap, but somehow it arcs haphazardly in the air, and smacks the top of Baekhyun’s head instead. If it’s any comfort, though, the bottle of lotion does ultimately end up in a now-irate Baekhyun’s lap. 

 

“Say  _ thank you _ ,” Chanyeol casually asks of Baekhyun as he zips up his bag and tosses it back into the corner where Baekhyun’s own backpack lies. He registers an angry hiss instead of the gratitude that he’s expecting to receive, and promptly pouts. “C’mon, if Daehan, Minguk, and Manse can follow instructions, so can you, Hyun.” 

 

“You’re not my father!” 

 

Chanyeol extends his hand towards the boy seated on the couch. “Then, I want my lotion back.” 

 

“Fine,” Baekhyun grits his teeth. “ _ Thank you for the lotion _ .”

 

Chanyeol gets the feeling that Baekhyun very much wants to slap the wide-ass grin off his face, so he silently sighs in relief when he sees Baekhyun slapping on a generous amount of lotion on his hands instead, probably as petty revenge for using his favourite on-screen triplets against him. 

 

“Anyway, if you value your life, don’t visit me anytime soon,” Baekhyun pipes up. “Since I’m working as a server now, Yixing’s tasked to help his father in the kitchen and I would appreciate not getting a knife in my back, thank you very much. Also, Kyungsoo’s lethal with his arsenal of serving equipment.”

 

Chanyeol shoots his friend a doubtful look. “You’re joking.”

 

Baekhyun withers. “I swear, he can stun me with that volcanic-temperature glare of his, then pour boiling hot tea on me and leave me writhing on the floor before decapitating me with one of his many serving trays.” 

 

“You’re jokin–”

 

“I dare you to say that to the aching jaw you helped ice a week ago.” 

 

Chanyeol scoffs, but visibly deflates as the memory surfaces in his mind. When Baekhyun had returned, from what was supposed to be  _ a night of a rejoiceful we-meet-again  _ which transformed into  _ a night of let’s punch Baekhyun in the face _ , the bruise on his jaw was small and hardly visible. When the next morning came around though, the bruise had bloomed and it looked utterly hideous and painful. Chanyeol kindly volunteered to be his best friend’s icepack-replacer for days until it vanished. 

 

(In hindsight, now that he thinks about it, he’s glad that he had heeded Baekhyun’s advice and stayed home that night; who knows what might have happened to him if he’d stubbornly followed.)

 

“I must mention, though, that it was  _ Yixing  _ who punched you.” 

 

Baekhyun gives him an irritated sneer. “I must  _ also  _ mention, then, that Kyungsoo can carry a crate of unopened glass bottles of beer on  _ his own _ .” 

 

“Wow.” 

 

There’s probably nothing to be impressed about but Chanyeol  _ is _ impressed with that little snippet of a fact. He’d never know this if they were back in Seoul, since Kyungsoo worked in a beverage joint instead of a restaurant that serves alcohol. The heaviest thing that he could probably heave at Joonmyeon’s would be a sack of coffee beans.  _ But beer, though.  _ What he wouldn’t give to witness such an incredible feat with his own eyes… 

 

… which is apparently nothing because– “But I still treasure my life, albeit a miserable one at the moment, so yes, I shall heed your advice and obediently stay home.” 

 

“And work on our report that’s due when we return to Seoul in–” Baekhyun adds, as he lifts his head and glances at the calendar, which their kind landlord had provided, hanging right below the clock on the wall that separates the equally tiny ( _ read: cosy _ ) kitchen from the living room. “–approximately two months.” He turns back to Chanyeol, who rolls his eyes. “No pressure there, best friend.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah.  _ No pressure _ .”

  
  
  


\---

  
  


Unbeknownst to his best friend, Chanyeol actually doesn’t treasure his life as dearly as he has made it out to be. 

 

“How in heavens can he squeeze through those tight spaces…!?” A tall, mysterious alley-dweller clad in an all-black outfit that screams  _ I am up to no good!!  _ mutters as he presses himself as flatly as possible to the brick wall and squints in a direction across the small street. Through a pair of glass doors, the suspicious person sees a figure weaving through the numerous tables and chairs at a speed that’s presumably impossible for someone to have when they’re balancing trays piled high with fragile china on their hands. “But I can’t tell if that’s Soo or Hyun…”

 

Chanyeol immediately slides the pair of sunglasses, that he’s slapped onto his face in the afternoon when he departed from his apartment, off his nose and pockets it. Ah, much better. ( _Of course it is_ , his mind sarcastically scoffs, _god knows why you still have it on when it’s already_ _night you oaf_.) He squints once again and this time, he’s able to identify the server.

 

He watches him, bright eyes following his every movement even as Kyungsoo continuously darts back and forth between the counter and this particular table for a few minutes, his small frown subtly betraying the frustration he could be feeling whenever the lone diner seated at that table waves him over. Seeing how mock-polite the server’s face has become, Chanyeol doesn’t need to personally be in the restaurant to realise that the diner’s probably filing complaints about Zhang  _ ba-ba _ ’s food.  _ Or is he…  _

 

Kyungsoo bows slightly and says something that Chanyeol can’t hear (of course he can’t) before leaning across the table to retrieve the dish that’s presumably not to the diner’s liking. 

 

Unbeknownst to him, the diner’s eyes grow cloudy and he drags them down his body, the leery expression creeping onto his face clearly shows his enjoyment of the view that is the figure of the restaurant’s younger male server. The lust blazing in his eyes is  _ most definitely not fucking  _ missed by Chanyeol. 

 

“Why I outta–” 

 

And Chanyeol, who has already abandoned his post in the alley (which has been attracting the stares of passers-by for the past three nights who, thankfully, didn’t act on their suspicions since the exchange student made it home safely after every  stalking shift) and sprinted across the street, would have most certainly dash right into the establishment without caring for his life if not for the sight that awes and worries him at the same time. 

 

Kyungsoo has smacked his serving tray right in the diner’s face. 

 

The instant pained roar of the man,  _ who should go to hell for the rest of his life and other lives _ , travels to Chanyeol’s ears after whizzing through the pair of glass door that separates him from the boy who’s been visiting his dreams, and  _ damn  _ is he satisfied to hear it. Kyungsoo isn’t anybody one can look at as though he’s a piece of prized meat hanging in a butcher's stall; he’s  _ so much more  _ than that (besides being human and not meat). 

 

Apparently, Kyungsoo  _ is  _ much more than a regular ol’ server in a Chinese restaurant because barely seconds after the man hastily stands up, chair clattering backwards onto the floor, he nimbly dodges a pair of pudgy arms swinging his way as his eyes systematically sweep across the space to carry out the evasive maneuvers that his brain seems to have impressively brainstormed of in a split second. Fortunately, the rest of the diners, especially the regulars, have all but backed up their chairs against the walls upon (surprise, surprise!) Baekhyun’s instructions, leaving sufficient space for Kyungsoo to continue this dangerous dance with the enraged customer.

 

He doesn’t have to dance long, though. The loud commotion in the dining area attracts the attention of the two Zhangs in the kitchen, and they emerge from beyond the dark blue fabric to see what’s going on. Chanyeol almost bursts out in laughter when he sees the massive chopper Yixing’s wielding, and he barely manages to bite back a snigger when the younger Zhang throws it down onto the table with enough force to lodge it into the wood and the troublemaking diner’s face drastically pales. 

 

“Explain,” the older Zhang growls, his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes evidently displaying his displeasement for all in the restaurant to see. Chanyeol now knows where Yixing’s un- _ xiao mian yang  _ side comes from. “Explain!” 

 

Kyungsoo raises his hand. “He was–” 

 

“ _ I  _ was just telling your server that the  _ har cheong gai  _ was too dry, and would have kindly told him that he has a patch of chilli sauce on the back pocket of his jeans when suddenly I find myself being whacked on the face!” The oversized diner screeches, his pale face reddening. (Chanyeol unkindly thinks of him as a big, fat red balloon that’s about to pop.) “To what extent did I deserve such treatment, huh!? HUH!?” 

 

Yep, Chanyeol’s mischievous thought of him popping—and not being a big, fat red balloon since he already is—is about to come true. Figurative needles seem to have appeared everywhere in the dining area as everyone in the establishment stares at him, all eyes narrowing and corners of lips turning downwards. The pudgy man should feel intimidated.  _ Extremely  _ intimidated. Because–

 

“Where _ did you say you saw the chilli sauce? _ ” Zhang  _ ba-ba  _ asks, his voice steady and calm, but Chanyeol detects the hidden disgust and fury beneath that seemingly usual question.  _ Uh oh _ . Shit’s about to go down.

 

Alas, the foolish diner doesn’t seem to have caught onto the increasingly volatile atmosphere. He actually has the  _ nerve _ to groan and plant his hands on his non-existent hips as his beady eyes return the strong gaze that Zhang  _ ba-ba _ has fixed on him. “Are you deaf? I’d already said: on the back pocket of his jeans–”

 

“ _And_ how _were you able to have seen that?_ ” 

 

“Because I was–”

 

And it’s then does the diner realises that he’s in deep shit. That he’s gone and jumped into the grave that he unconsciously dug. His eyes widen, and his jaw slacken (further emphasizing his  ~~double triple~~ quadruple chin). But this state of horrification doesn’t last long, for the growl of the person who has inherited his father’s un- _ xiao mian yang  _ side echoes within the restaurant and is powerful enough for Chanyeol to hear it as well.

 

“ _ Get the fuck out. _ ” 

 

The man all but scrambles towards the glass doors, the thick tyre around his waist swishing, his chins jiggling (disgustingly) as he runs for the exit. Chanyeol’s so engrossed in the hilarity of the man’s movement that he doesn’t see the glass doors opening out towards him and the boy soon feels the collective gaze of numerous Chinese eyes, and as he lifts his head, he finds himself staring up into the round eyes of  his the city’s Dark Side of the Moon. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Kyungsoo knows that he, technically speaking, doesn’t have to be one who has to clean a certain fool’s wounds. But— _ sighs _ —he has a conscience, and it tells him that Zhang  _ ba-ba _ has had a long day while Feifei- _ jie  _ still has an 8AM class to report for tomorrow. 

 

(The mock volcanic-temperature glare that Kyungsoo shoots at her warns Feifei of the  _ dire  _ consequences that she will face should she object, and that thought alone has her scarpering, hands tugging her boss who’s still handing a bunch of keys to his son. 

 

“Remember to lock up, Xing!”

 

As if Yixing will  _ dare  _ to forget.) 

 

Also, Kyungsoo may or may not have promised said fool’s best friend (a fool as well) that he’d give him some time with his own best friend. He’ll deal with Yixing’s wrath later, and his childhood friend’s icy expression that he shoots his way cements that thought. 

 

Besides, there is a more pressing matter at hand right now. But, it’s definitely not that he actually cares about Chanyeol and his bleeding elbows and palms. Nope, not at all. 

 

Not. At. All.

 

So after he jerks his chin at a fuming Yixing to follow after a meek Baekhyun into the kitchen, Kyungsoo retrieves the first aid box from the back room and returns quickly. He sets it down onto a clean table and skillfully whirls two chairs seated at that same table to face each other. Without looking at the other person in the area, Kyungsoo silently gestures for them to sit. 

 

And it’s in this silence that Kyungsoo cleans up Chanyeol’s bleeding arms. He works quickly, systematically washing the blood off with an antiseptic liquid, before swiping alcohol patches across the scrapes. He tries to not lessen the pressure that his fingers are applying on Chanyeol’s wounds whenever he sees and  _ feels  _ his body jerk in reflex to the pain he’s feeling. He tries hard to not be gentle, to not be softhearted. Because Chanyeol doesn’t deserve gentleness from him. He doesn’t deserve his attention, his gaze, or  _ anything _ from him. Chanyeol most definitely  _ do not  _ deserve his affection either.

 

Kyungsoo’s being harsh, he knows that, but it’s the only thing he can allow himself to be when the person he’s currently applying antiseptic cream for is someone whom he had convinced himself had hurt him, had ‘broken up’ with him. He’s also the last person he would ever (want to) see again. 

 

So he wills his fingers to heed the instructions coming from his mind, to just do what he’s been tasked to do. Alcohol wipes— _ ignore the heart _ —antiseptic cream— _ ignore the heart _ —plasters. 

 

_ Ignore your fucking softhearted heart.  _

 

Yet, throughout the cleaning process, Kyungsoo realises that Chanyeol might be in cahoots with his heart, conspiring together to make him  _ feel  _ things in the presence of the one person he’s really  loved liked a lot. 

 

Despite having not made any eye contact with Chanyeol after finding him sprawled outside the restaurant almost an hour ago, Kyungsoo knows— _ feels _ —that he’s looking at him. Chanyeol’s relentless gaze may be strong, piercing actually, but there’s more than that. As with all of his other gazes, it’s heated, a gentle flame burning brightly in those large eyes that have on countless occasions shown Kyungsoo how treasured and cherished he was by the boy. 

 

_ Eyes are windows to souls _ , and it couldn’t be more true for Park Chanyeol. Kyungsoo doesn’t need to  _ see  _ to know that Chanyeol’s still harbouring... something for him. The heat that’s spreading from his crown to the rest of his body informs him of that, for when it reaches his heart, a not-really-subtle affection hiding within the gentle fire is discovered. And Kyungsoo isn’t even surprised. 

 

“S– Kyungsoo.”

 

He doesn’t reply, choosing to focus his attention on selecting the appropriate plasters that would cover Chanyeol’s wounds completely. 

 

“Can I… talk to you?”

 

Silence is Kyungsoo’s response once again.

 

“I want to talk about what happened in Seoul.”

 

Still silence.

 

“I want to know why you told Baekhyun to do what he did.”

 

More silence.

 

“Please tell me.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

“ _ Please  _ tell me why you wanted to break up with me.”

 

At this, Kyungsoo finally reacts. He freezes, fingers stopping in their packing of the first aid kit. The bottle of antiseptic cream remains in Kyungsoo’s hand for a little while, its body gradually being squeezed by fingers as Kyungsoo slowly lifts his head and makes eye contact with Chanyeol. 

 

The shock that appears on Chanyeol’s face tells Kyungsoo that his eyes have betrayed his emotions. The whirlwind of emotions within him, their combined strength resulting in a hurricane that storms his eyes. The rest of his face darkens.

 

“Why do I have to?” 

 

Kyungsoo’s words come out as a whisper, echoing around them ominously. It’s the calm before the storm.

 

“Why? _ Why  _ do I have to give you an answer? Am I obliged to just because you asked?” 

 

Chanyeol opens his mouth but Kyungsoo cuts him off ruthlessly. 

 

“No, I am not. Because who are you to me right now? You’re no one to me.  _ No one _ .” He pauses then, tongue slipping past his lips to wet them. Kyungsoo also takes that chance to tear his eyes away from Chanyeol’s, his fingers releasing their tight grip on the antiseptic cream and he resumes packing. “I don’t know if you’re confused and mistaking this– this interaction as a sign of friendship, but I can assure you that this is nothing. This means absolutely nothing to me because any form of relationship that we had between us vanished on the day you broke up with me.” 

 

The kit shuts with a resolute  _ clack _ . 

 

“We’re strangers, that’s what we’ve become.” 

 

And Kyungsoo would have made it to the back room with the first aid kit grasped in his hand if not for the deep baritone chasing after him– 

 

“You and I both know that it wasn’t  _ me  _ who wanted to become strangers.” 

 

–causing Kyungsoo to stop in his tracks. He whirls around and his eyes immediately dart up to Chanyeol’s.

 

“It doesn’t matter who wanted it. What matters is that  _ you  _ are the one who said the words, that  _ you  _ are the one who broke up with me. So, there. Are you happy? Did you get the revenge that you wanted for what I did back in highschool?”

 

“I– I did bu–”

 

“We’re over. We were strangers, acquaintances, friends,  _ lovers _ , but right now, we’re back to square one. Strangers. And I’m not keen, nor willing, to go on from that. Our lives will no longer cross paths, and  _ I  _ will ensure that the orbits of the sun and the moon will not coincide in the future.” 

 

The storm in Kyungsoo’s eyes is still whipping furiously, his face still as dark as the dark side of the moon.

 

“You’ve had your revenge, so don’t you think you should go away now? Please,  _ please  _ just go away and leave me alone. Leave Yixing alone, too. Finish what you came here to do and when the time is up,  _ leave _ .” 

 

“But, Kyungsoo–”

 

“ _ JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!  _ What part of  _ l e a v e  _ do you not understand? Do you need me to say it in Chinese? English? Japanese? Do I need to write it out in Korean characters for you?”

 

“No–”

 

“As you’ve said to me back then, I’m evil. I’m an evil boy who preyed on an innocent foreign exchange student with his act of being bullied by the seniors and getting him to believe that I actually had  _ feelings _ –”

 

“Soo–”

 

“–for him when the truth was far from that; that it was all a bet, a conspiracy with the seniors in order to be free of them as a bully victim.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ The moment the frantic male student blurts out news of the seniors dragging a certain boy into the stairwell near the science classrooms, Chanyeol runs.  _

 

_ He pushes past his school mates, ignoring the numerous glares and yells of a couple of Chinese curses that he recognises, courtesy of Zitao who had taught him in secret (unbeknownst to Yixing), as he makes his way across the school. Beads of perspiration drip down the sides of his face, mercilessly wetting the collar of his school shirt and Chanyeol knows that he’s going to have to scrub at it for a long time and with an insane amount of bleach if he wants to remove the stains. He suddenly feels extremely thankful for his mother.   _

 

_ But he pushes that thought to the back of his mind, choosing to focus on coordinating his long limbs for he’s almost tripped over his feet one too many times for comfort and he doesn’t have time. Only god knows what the seniors might have already done to the boy—to  _ his boyfriend _.  _

 

_ So when the cement ground that his feet has been pounding on for about a minute changes to white tiles, and his surroundings that have been a green blur become a white blur, Chanyeol knows he’s near his destination. He speeds up, despite his breaths becoming more and more ragged and his lungs scream for oxygen. Chanyeol barely manages to ignore the sharp pain shooting up from his calves to his thighs as his eyes finally see the hallway he visits thrice a week for his science lessons. And when the stairwell that he’s been told to be harbouring the bullies and victim looms into view, Chanyeol runs like he’s never run before.  _

 

_ Yet, even as he thinks he sees a familiar head disappearing into the stairwell (he can’t be sure because perspiration has been entering and blurring his eyes for awhile now), Chanyeol doesn’t stop. He only does so a few metres away, flinching when the high pitched screech of his soles against the tiles slice the unnatural silence of the hallway, and he hastily scrubs his face with his sleeves, wiping away the moisture that accumulated during the mad dash. (Once again, he mentally applauds his mother for suffering through all these years of doing his laundry because  _ sweat stains  are a bitch _.) _

 

_ Chanyeol doesn’t hear anything, not until he crouches down and carefully duck-waddles towards the door. It’s slightly ajar, perfect for keeping noises in, and just right for Chanyeol to peek in. The sight is something he knows he will not be able to forget even in the future.  _

 

_ It’s not that he hasn’t seen what his eyes are currently seeing before. In fact, Chanyeol’s certain he’s witnessed such similar scenes at least twice, excluding this one. And the victim in every view is the same person, though his relationship with him has changed since the last time he’d seen him cornered by the seniors. They were strangers back then, or acquaintances if Chanyeol wants to strongly argue for it, and now they’re a couple.  _

 

_ And as the boyfriend of the boy in distress, Chanyeol ought to be dashing into the scene, throwing himself between his boyfriend and his bullies, mouth opening to declare protection and war against those who threaten the safety of his boy, and he’d then proceed to give them hell for what they have done or would have done to him.  _

 

_ But Chanyeol does none of that.  _

 

_ For he’s currently rooted to his spot, bewildered by the single sentence that had somehow managed to escape the confines of the stairwell and into Chanyeol’s large ears. Oh how he hates his ears so much right now; his boyfriend must certainly be lying to him whenever he says that his ears are adorable.  _

 

_ Which means that he probably lied about other things too, if what the seniors are screeching about is the truth.  _

 

_ “Good job on getting that Korean kid to be your boyfriend, and as we’ve agreed on for our bet–” _

 

_ And this is when Chanyeol zones out, a single word rendering his mind a blank.  _ Bet. A bet with the seniors. What did they bet about? About me? What’s the reward or consequence of this bet? What on earth is going on? 

 

_ The numerous questions that emerge from within his sudden onslaught of confusing thoughts in his blanking mind disable Chanyeol’s senses, though he faintly registers several words out of the entire garble being spit out by the older males— _ bet, boyfriend, fake feelings _. But those words do nothing to quell his poor confused, and now-pounding, head as Chanyeol feels an inevitable headache coming on.  _

 

_ He’s utterly confused, that’s just about all Chanyeol can sensibly make out right now. Those individual words that he heard don’t make sense, since he hadn’t heard neither head nor tail of what the seniors were screeching about. Yet, as suddenly as the headache came, it vanished, mysteriously taking Chanyeol’s confusion along with it as well. The blank in his mind disappears, and his thought processes get to work without Chanyeol instructing it to. It isn’t long before it reaches a conclusion, and it makes Chanyeol wish that he had chosen not to come here.  _

 

_ Because then, he wouldn’t have to deal with this merciless tsunami of betrayal drowning him.  _

 

_ “–because you’ve won, so we will no longer torment you as we have done for the past few years. Which means you’re finally free, little one. You’re not going to be bullied anymore, Do Kyungsoo.” _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“What did Baekhyun talk to you about?”

 

“Nothing of importance.” 

 

“Are you really going to say that to my face when your expression says otherwise, Xing, because we both know–”

 

“What did  _ Chanyeol  _ talk to you about, then?” 

 

“... Nothing of importance, as well.”

 

“See, there we go.”

 

“...”

 

“We’ll both talk when we’re ready, you know that very well, so until then, let’s just wait patiently. Alright?”

 

“Is there even an option to say no?”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“He’s pushing me away.”

 

“ _ He’s  _ pushing me away, too.”

 

“Why is he pushing me away so desperately, I don’t–”

 

“Why is  _ he  _ pushing me away so desperately too, I really don’t–”

 

“I have to know why he keeps harping on the fact that  _ I’m  _ the one who broke up with him in Seoul. There’s got to be something–”

 

“There’s also got to be something about why he keeps bringing that up, too, and, oh, also the bet and your revenge–”

 

“He talked about revenge too–”

 

“Exactly, so there’s definitely something up with that–”

 

“But what? Why are they so fixated on that  _ I’m  _ the one who called things off, and that  _ I  _ already had my revenge so shouldn’t  _ I _ stop disturbing their lives–”

 

“He talked about  _ me  _ disturbing his life, too–”

 

“Precisely!”

 

“This is so weird.”

 

“...”

 

“...”

 

“I have to find out more about what happened back in high school. There are definitely things that they’re not telling us, and I’m fairly certain it’s something huge.” 

 

“How are you going to do that when both of them won’t speak to us anymore? Because he made it really clear,  _ crystal clear _ to me that we’re no longer in existence–”

 

“I have my ways, Hyun, don’t worry.”

  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Thanks for coming along with me, Xing.”

 

“You should probably thank  _ ba-ba  _ for letting us off instead,” Yixing chuckles, hand reaching up to Kyungsoo’s head and he playfully, but gently, ruffles his hair. Kyungsoo doesn’t bother to right the mess, trusting that Yixing will do so for him. And he’s not wrong, for the boy carefully pushes the hair away from his face, tucking several strands behind his ears. “It’s a Saturday and we all know how busy the restaurant will be.”

 

Kyungsoo hums an agreement “I’ll give him a bow when we return later, then.”

 

Yixing steps away, mock surprise flitting onto his face. “You’re being too polite right now, and it’s scaring me!” He ignores Kyungsoo’s petulant raspberry and roll of his eyes to step back towards him, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind Kyungsoo’s ear. The slight breeze that suddenly begins to blow undoes his action. Yixing tries again, and it stays this time. “But really, you don’t have to because he knows how important today is–” And he looks at his best friend in the eye. 

 

“–for us–” 

 

He cups Kyungsoo’s face as softly as he possibly can. 

 

“–for you–”

 

Kyungsoo leans into Yixing’s touch, eyelids fluttering shut at the warmth that’s beyond familiar to his skin.

 

“–for  _ po-po _ .”

 

And the homemade bouquet of several stalks of lilies, tied together with twine and placed at the tombstone of the woman who’d persevered through almost two decades of hardship in raising her grandson, seem to agree with Yixing’s words as they rustle ever so freely in the breeze. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ “Hello?” _

 

“Sorry, but is this Yifan’s number?”

 

_ “Yes, it still is. And, hey, Chanyeol.” _

 

“Hey.”

 

_ “It’s been a long time, and I would love to chit-chat with you but I know there’s probably something you want to ask me right? I hear the same ol’ urgency that pops up in your voice whenever you desperately want answers to your questions.” _

 

“You still know me so well, even after all these years.”

 

_ “Of course, I do. You’re my first Korean friend! There’s a spot in my heart for you, y’know.” _

 

“How cheesy, Yifan.”

 

_ “Always have been, took you long enough to realise, but anyway, your question?” _

 

“Yeah, about that…”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“When are you two going to tell Zhang- _ shu  _ the true reason behind Baekhyun’s absence?”

 

Yixing pauses in his wiping of wet cutlery, setting down the bunch of spoons wrapped in a towel onto the table before looking up. “Never, if possible.” 

 

Feifei  _ tsks _ , and purses her lips. “That’s not right, and it isn’t fair to your father. He doesn’t know the things that I know! And I’m not even family.” 

 

“You are!” Kyungsoo pipes up, his own bunch of wet chopsticks wrapped in a towel meeting with the table. He looks at his senior, surprising Feifei with genuine earnestness. “You’re a _family_ _friend_ , Feifei- _jie_! And besides, _ba-ba_ doesn’t need to know. He will only kick up a huge fuss and demand explanations from us _and_ the very people we don’t want to come into contact with ever again. So he doesn’t need to know, and you are not allowed to tell him either, Feifei- _jie_.”

 

“I would never,” Feifei replies in a heartbeat, and both Yixing and Kyungsoo believe her words to be true. They might not have known the older girl long enough, but if Zhang  _ ba-ba _ , a person who, frankly, is an excellent judge of character, trusts her enough to employ her the moment she enquired about a position, then the pair of childhood friends have nothing to worry about. 

 

(Though, Kyungsoo wonders then, if the elder Zhang is indeed  _ that  _ good at judging character,  _ does it mean that Chanyeol and Baekhyun are honest-to-god good persons…?  _

 

But they’re not, or at least in Kyungsoo and Yixing’s eyes anyway. Revenge plans are pure evil, making their conceivers equally evil as well. 

 

Which means that Zhang  _ ba-ba  _ is wrong in his judgment for the first time.)

 

“It’s not my story to tell, anyway,” Feifei scoffs, pursing her lips once more as she reaches over to the adjacent table to retrieve a basket of wet forks. Kyungsoo mistakes both her expression and action to be that of being offended, and the boy quickly apologises much to the female’s confusion. 

 

Feifei gently places the basket onto the table, sitting back down onto her chair before extending her wet fingers over to Kyungsoo’s head and the boy isn’t too quick enough to dodge the combing his hair is receiving. The older server giggles at Kyungsoo’s shriek while Yixing sniggers, his own wet hand joining in the combing. Kyungsoo gives up trying to evade their ministrations, sighing resignedly as he slumps and just lets them do whatever they want with his hair. 

 

“But, seriously, young ones–”

 

“Like you're  _ that much  _ older than both of us, Feifei- _ jie _ ,” Yixing retorts.

 

“You brat,” Feifei scrunches her nose and mock glares, before her expression dissolves into a wide grin that’s immediately mirrored by her colleagues. Kyungsoo looks into the eyes of his  _ jie _ for a few moments, slight confusion washing over him when Feifei’s grin slides and in those wavering orbs of his head server, Kyungsoo sees the words he’s about to hear. 

 

“You can’t keep hiding dirty laundry.” 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ “Yeol!”  _

 

_ Chanyeol whirls around, the expression on his face that he had painstakingly taken much time to school into that of rage softening instantly when Kyungsoo’s smiling face is all that he sees. He runs up to him with his arms extended, the door to the rooftop swinging behind him. The hinges no longer squeak with every use, every swing of the door; Chanyeol has taken the time and effort to oil it months before, after all.  _

 

_ The boy’s joyful call of his name is all he hears as his voice rings out in the tranquility of the deserted rooftop. And his rare smiling face is all he sees as he throws himself at him, arms wrapping around his waist while his face buries itself in his chest. Chanyeol thinks he feels Kyungsoo’s smile burning against his skin, and the thought suddenly disgusts him.  _

 

_ It’s only been three hours since he’s witnessed that– that  _ whatever  _ between Kyungsoo and the seniors, where they’ve basically provided him with information that he would never have known if he hadn’t been there. His front-row seat might as well be equivalent to Kyungsoo confessing everything to him instead, since he’d been able to see the myriad of expressions that flitted across his face when the seniors screeched at him. The expressions were so vivid, so colourful, so  _ real _ , Chanyeol was almost taken in by his act—that Kyungsoo really didn’t know what he was hearing. _

 

_ But Chanyeol’s certain that he does. It would explain (kind of) why a boy like him would take an interest in him. He’s just a kid from Seoul. An exchange student that nobody takes notice of, and his school-assigned buddy is less than cool (not that he’s complaining; Yixing’s wonderful but…). Also, his group of friends are… Well, Chanyeol’s average. Average grades, average looks (ouch to his ego, but…), average personality. Seriously, a pineapple might even have more character than he does, what with it’s rough yellow surface and spiky hair and all. So in the beginning Chanyeol really hadn’t quite comprehended why in heavens would a handsome boy want to be his friend and subsequently accept to be his boyfriend?  _

 

_ Chanyeol knows now. And when Kyungsoo peels himself away from Chanyeol to direct that bright smile at him, Chanyeol feels more and more disgusted with him. It’s been less than five hours since he’s witnessed that stairwell gathering, where he’d finally discovered the secret that Kyungsoo’s been harbouring since the beginning of their queer friendship or possibly even before, and the boy’s able to smile this widely. It’s impossible, in Chanyeol’s opinion.  _

 

What a great actor this one is,  _ Chanyeol bitterly thinks as he tries to not let the small smile that he had forcefully slapped onto his face slide off,  _ and to think I’m dumb enough to fall for it time and time again ugh. 

 

But not this time. Not anymore. 

 

_ And the smile vanishes. In its place is the darkest, most angered expression that Chanyeol’s face has ever formed. And in response, a seemingly frightened expression forms on Kyungsoo’s face. _

 

_ “When were you going to tell me, S– Kyungsoo?”  _

 

_ The growing fear on Kyungsoo’s face transmutes to confusion. “Huh?”  _

 

_ “Stop playing dumb with me, Kyungsoo, and answer the question.  _ When were you going to tell me? _ ” _

 

_ “Tell you what? I’m not understanding anything you’re saying, Yeol.”  _

 

_ Chanyeol’s hands slip from Kyungsoo’s shoulders down to his arms and he grips them, his fingers digging into flesh with every passing second he spends standing in front of him. His patience is running thin, the disgust is threatening to spill out from within him, and Kyungsoo’s supposed obliviousness is accelerating the process.  _

 

_ “The bet. When were you going to tell me about the bet you made with the seniors? Or were you  _ even  _ going to tell me  _ at all _ before I returned to Seoul?” Chanyeol’s voice drips with rage and malice. He doesn’t bother to mask them, not when the recipient deserves those accusations. He wants to fling them at him, cruelly, ruthlessly,  _ heartlessly.  _ But something makes him pause, and Chanyeol mentally curses his soft heart when genuine confusion bursts forth from Kyungsoo’s orbs and pierce through his.  _

 

He’s acting,  _ Chanyeol’s mind hisses,  _ don’t fall for his trap. Don’t fall don’t fall don’t fall for it any longer than you already have. 

 

_ And just like that, Chanyeol’s soft heart gets locked up and what’s left of the foreign exchange student is his fury for the boy whom he’s once foolishly thought the whole world of.  _

 

_ “When were you going to tell me that you’ve  _ never  _ had feelings for me?”  _

 

_ “How did you–” _

 

_ “Ah.” Chanyeol throws back his head and lets out a forced laugh. _

 

_ “So it’s true, then.”  _

 

_ “It’s–” _

 

_ But Kyungsoo’s words don’t make it out of his mouth, and Chanyeol can only,  _ finally  _ let go. But it’s not without repercussions. Devastation. Disappointment. Disbelief.  _

 

Why did you do it? Why did you drag me in? 

 

Why did you make me love you?

 

Why–

 

_ “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you actually–  _ actually _ went through the bet with the seniors just because of your want or your need to be free of them by u–using me. By sacrificing me.”  _

 

_ “Chan–” _

 

_ “Don’t call me!” Chanyeol snaps, the sharpness of his tone startling Kyungsoo and he jerks. “Don’t… call me.” He releases Kyungsoo’s arms from his fingers, dropping his hands to his sides. Chanyeol clenches them, tight. “Don’t even touch me anymore. Don’t– Don’t be  _ anyone _ to me.” _

 

_ He steps forward, walks, and brushes past him, his arm accidentally rubbing against Kyungsoo’s shoulder for a fraction of a second.  _

 

_ Then, a soft, deep voice, breaking around the edges, echos emptily within the space of the rooftop.  _

 

_ “Let’s break up.” _

 

_ After slamming the door to the rooftop shut behind him, Chanyeol stands at the top of the stairs. The despondency on his face isn’t seen by anyone.  _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol plops down next to Baekhyun on the loveseat, hand immediately digging into the large bowl of microwave popcorn before shoving a handful into his mouth. Several escape and drop onto his lap. Chanyeol tries to ignore them, but they’re soon being chewed in his mouth as he pops the last escapee past his lips. He smacks his lips loudly and Baekhyun, without taking his eyes off the television screen, blindly pinches a part of Chanyeol’s body. 

 

And of course, Chanyeol yelps. “What was that for!” 

 

“For bothering me with that unnecessary noise,” Baekhyun calmly replies, his eyes still on the screen. “And this–” Baekhyun manages to whack his palm on Chanyeol’s thigh with frightening accuracy. “–is for beating around the bush.” 

 

“I’m not–” 

 

Baekhyun actually  _ growls _ . “Don’t even lie to me, Yeol. Don’t even  _ try _ .”

 

“I–”

 

“ _ Don’t. _ ”

 

Chanyeol sighs. “Fine, fine.  _ Fine _ .”

 

Baekhyun suddenly looks smug, a corner of his lips quirking upwards into a crooked smirk. Chanyeol very much wants to slap it off, but that would mean incurring Baekhyun’s wrath and  _ no, just no because hell hath no fury like a Byun Baekhyun scorned _ . Besides, a dead Chanyeol is of no use to the plan that the living Chanyeol has thought of. 

 

“I need your help.” 

 

The half-smirk on Baekhyun’s face blooms into a full-on one. “About time.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Over my dead body.”

 

“... Fine, so be it.” 

 

And Chanyeol immediately stands up and proceeds to wrap his fingers around Yixing’s neck, applying pressure in seconds–

 

“Chanyeol!” Baekhyun shrieks, fingers of his own flying over to free Yixing’s neck from Chanyeol’s. The red imprints of Chanyeol’s fingers are stark against Yixing’s pale neck. “Yixing was kiddin–”

 

“I wasn’t,” Yixing speaks up, his no-frills tone holding no sign of him joking. The legendary scowl on his face, as well as his crossed arms, further reinforce his defensive stance. He doesn’t spare a glance at Baekhyun, his eyes fully focusing on Chanyeol through a volcanic-temperature glare that would put Kyungsoo’s to utter shame. “I wasn’t kidding when I said that because I absolutely do not want any of you to contact Kyungsoo. You can only do that when  _ I’m fucking dead and buried under earth _ .” 

 

This rare show of Yixing’s un- _ xiao mian yang  _ behaviour takes Chanyeol aback. Sure, he’s experienced it, but even though he’s seen this side of Yixing, it doesn’t make things easier.

 

“So I don’t give a damn about what you’ve just said because our friendship was over the moment you two decided to exact revenge on Kyungsoo for something that he didn’t even commit–” 

 

Yixing suddenly stops. Gasps. “Shit.” 

 

The boy’s hardened expression softens, and Chanyeol notices how the storm in his eyes have all but vanished. 

 

“ _ Fuck _ , pretend I never said all that.”

 

He looks pleadingly at both Chanyeol and Baekhyun, eyes round and glistening. The plea in those orbs speak loud and clear, reiterating the words said. “Please.”

 

“I can’t pretend that I didn’t hear what you just said, Xing,” Chanyeol quietly says up after minutes of painful silence where none of the involved parties had been willing to break the static white noise of the sparsely-filled beverage joint a stone throw away from Yixing’s university. Yixing hadn’t wanted to meet with the two boys, but both Chanyeol and Baekhyun have made it hard for him to escape, for they’ve somehow managed to find out the exact location and dismissal time of his last lecture for the day and had all but manhandled him to the chair that’s he been sitting in ever since. 

 

“Since I know  _ everything _ now.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ Chanyeol plops down onto the couch and immediately slumps. His phone is still in his hand, right by his ear, but he can’t hear what Yifan is still saying to him. His eyes may be staring at the black screen of his television but they’re unseeing, blankness obscuring his sight. And even if the television was switched on and a programme is playing onscreen, Chanyeol isn’t going to be able to register anything anyway. His mind had shut down on its own the instant Yifan gently murmured to him.  _

 

_ “Kyungsoo’s innocent, Yeol.” _

 

_ It was Yifan’s truthful answer to Chanyeol’s question:  _ Was Kyungsoo in cahoots with the seniors back in highschool?  _ Yifan didn’t even give Chanyeol the time to further explain the seemingly vague question, replying him straightaway in a tone that doesn’t allow for any doubt to form.  _

 

_ Chanyeol doesn’t doubt Yifan, he really doesn’t, for Chanyeol knows that Yifan never lies, or only lies when he  _ has to _. Which meant that Yifan either had no choice but to help in covering up the business between Kyungsoo and the seniors, or he truly believed in the pros of keeping Chanyeol in the dark and not letting him know the truth.  _

 

_ “You must be wondering why we didn’t tell you, right?” Yifan asks, and Chanyeol picks up on the subtle hint of wariness, as though Yifan is afraid of the repercussions. Gosh, Yifan is so adorable. He had been so confident before, confessing his crime and all without wavering, but he’s only feeling frightened now? Aww. (But, of course, Chanyeol keeps his cooing to himself.) _

 

_ “He begged us, Yeol. Kyungsoo begged us to not tell you the truth because he wanted you to leave without any baggage, without anything that would tie you to China.” _

 

_ Chanyeol laughs bitterly. “Well, it did  _ everything  _ but that. I only forgot about it months after I returned to Seoul, and the process hadn’t been painless, honestly.”  _

 

_ “It wasn’t painless for Kyungsoo too, if you must know,” Yifan softly supplies. “Besides dealing with your departure and the so-called bet with the seniors, he also had to–” Yifan suddenly stops talking, mutters a soft curse and Chanyeol can visualise the boy mentally chiding himself for almost letting slip something that he ought not to have said.  _

 

_ “Kyungsoo also had to what?” Chanyeol probes, his gut feeling telling him that this thing that Yifan had stopped himself from saying is part of this whole fiasco, and it could very well be the missing piece of the puzzle Chanyeol couldn’t complete even after two years. “What did Kyungsoo have to do?”  _

 

_ “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to get that out from either Xing or Kyungsoo,” Yifan says. “It’s… not my story to tell.”  _

 

_ “Oh.” was all Chanyeol could say and he finally drops his eyes from the television screen to focus on the hand that had been gripping the hem of his shorts since he had sat down on the couch. He didn’t even know he’s been doing that.  _

 

_ “Yeol, just know that Kyungsoo had to go through a lot during those two weeks right up to your departure, and when I say a lot I really mean  _ a lot _. And like I’ve said, the journey hadn’t been painless for him either.” A pause. _

 

_ “Yeol, I’d be frank here but his pain was much greater than yours.” _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“I’m going to kill Yifan when I see him.”

 

“He knows that it’s been dragging on for far too long, Xing. That was why he decided to tell me. It’s not his fault.” 

 

“It still doesn’t give him the right to divulge the secret Soo entrusted us with. And he didn’t even inform any of us that he had told you. Ugh, that jerkwad. I’m going to give him a hell lot of pain the next time I see him.” 

 

“There was… one thing that he refused to tell me, though. He told me that I had to get it out from you or Kyungsoo because it wasn’t his story to tell.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Yifan said something about Kyungsoo experiencing far more pain than I could ever imagine during those two weeks that led up to my departure, and if me breaking up with him was only a part of it, what was the other part?” 

 

“Well, Yifan’s damn right about the fact that it’s not his story to tell.”

 

“Then, could you tell me, Xing?” 

 

“It’s not my story to tell either–”

 

“Xing–”

 

“–but I don’t want Soo to relive the pain again, not when I had to see him suffer and pretend that everything was okay so I suppose… Yeah, I could tell you on his behalf.” 

 

“Thank you.”

 

“It’s nothing to be thankful for, to be honest, because this  _ really _ isn’t my story to tell even though the person involved has always been there since Soo and I were born but the person means the world—no, the person  _ is  _ the world to Soo ever since his parents passed away.”

 

“Xing…?”

 

“ _ Po-po  _ passed away on the day Soo was supposed to meet you at the clocktower, Yeol.

 

“I–”

 

“Soo returned home after school, expecting a home-cooked meal and his beloved grandmother waiting for him, but instead all he found was  _ po-po  _ lying on the bed in the same position that he had last seen her in before he left for school in the morning. To this day, Soo doesn’t even know  _ what time  _ his grandmother passed away. And this was why he was late to the meet-up, why he missed the time you had given him to explain himself. This was why Yifan said what he said, that his pain is much greater than yours, Chanyeol-ah.

 

“Because he lost two persons who were everything to him all in a  _ single _ day.”

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


_ His eyes see the date, time, and place that’s scrawled on the piece of lined paper that he’s seen on more than one occasion whenever the notebook that it had belonged to gets mistakenly packed into his bag.  _

 

_ His eyes also see the short string of Chinese characters scrawled before the aforementioned details, with some characters cancelled out and replaced with the correct ones instead.  _

 

His command of Chinese is improving, it seems.

 

_ But that thought vanishes as quickly as it had come and he shuts his eyes before sighing softly. What was he thinking about at a time like this. Command of Chinese? Seriously? What he ought to be thinking about is the fact that they haven’t had any form of contact since he supposedly ‘broke up’ with him that day—no texts, no calls, no meet-ups, no dates,  _ nothing _ —and yet, this piece of torn paper finds its way into one of the textbooks under his desk.  _

 

_ He’s certain it comes from him. The handwriting, the paper the characters were written on are more than enough evidence for him to know. But, why? Why is he trying to establish something? What is he trying to do now?  _

 

_ Kyungsoo would be lying if he says that he doesn’t feel unsettled by this sudden turn of events, as though something bad—an ultimatum—is about to happen, and  _ will  _ happen if he follows the instructions written on the paper. He’s also feeling the same way if he doesn’t go. _

 

_ Either way, Kyungsoo’s made up his mind. There’s no harm in going to see what he wants. _

 

_ But Kyungsoo can’t shake off the ominous feeling that suddenly descends upon him as he closes his fingers around the paper.  _

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


If he had a choice, Kyungsoo wouldn’t want to be back here. 

 

Heck, he wouldn’t even dare to step into the vicinity if he could help it. The place isn’t a source of his nightmares, but it has appeared in numerous ones so it might as well be. But, frankly, the clocktower isn’t at fault. 

 

Kyungsoo tilts his head upwards, eyes darting to the face of the clock that’s been installed in the concrete structure of the city’s only clocktower. It’s a place of interest, if the crowds of tourists are any indication, and it is definitely a place where many citizens choose to meet up. Kyungsoo just isn’t certain if most of those meet-ups actually happened, or not happened—like his. 

 

The boy registers the time shown by the clock’s hands and scoffs aloud, attracting the attention of several tourists who turn to glance at him before returning to whatever they were doing. “Five minutes late, and he left the house earlier than I did. So what’s taking him so long…”

 

Kyungsoo drops down to the ground, not minding that his jeans are probably going to be dirty as he crosses his legs and sticks a hand into the front pocket. His fingers blindly grope around until they make contact with an object and Kyungsoo fishes it out with a little difficulty. His eyes read the Chinese characters scrawled messily in the handwriting he’s been seeing for years. 

 

“‘Four o’clock at the clocktower. Don’t be late!’” Kyungsoo reads, mimicking the writer’s voice as he does. “Tsk, I’m punctual but he’s late. Seriously. And he didn’t even tell me why or what this is about and he wouldn’t even answer my calls or texts and just–  _ Ugh! _ ” He throws his hands in the air in annoyance, though taking care to not let the piece of paper be released to the breeze that suddenly picks up, blowing strands of hair into his eyes. It’s when Kyungsoo finishes brushing away from his eyes does he hear it. 

 

The sounds of a guitar playing. 

 

The  _ tune  _ that the guitar is playing. 

 

The  _ familiar  _ tune that is travelling to his ears, as though the guitarist is just right around–

 

_ // 'Cause all of me, _

_ Loves all of you. // _

 

–the corner. 

 

Kyungsoo freezes. He finally registers the name of the song, as well as the voice singing it. And he’d be lying if he says that he doesn’t feel like crying. But in joy, or in pain, Kyungsoo doesn’t know. Yet.

 

_ // Love your curves and all your edges, _

_ All your perfect imperfections. // _

 

He watches the crowd of tourists cluster together, their eyes darting wildly around to identify where the song is coming from and when Kyungsoo sees their eyes finally converging in a single direction—somewhere behind him, on his right—he thinks he knows what’s coming. 

 

But knowing where the guitarist is doesn’t give him the time to prepare himself, for while the song greatly surprised him, the deep baritone that it’s being sung in shocks him even more. 

 

_ // Give your all to me, _

_ I'll give my all to you. // _

 

From the corners of his eyes, he finally sees him. And he’s not even the one who  _ wrote  _ the paper that had been left on the dining table, slotted under a covered plate of french toasts. Kyungsoo’s going to kill Yixing when he sees him after all this. 

 

_ // You're my end and my beginning. _

_ Even when I lose I'm winning. // _

 

Chanyeol steps in front of him, a corner of his lips tugged upwards to form the frustratingly good-looking smile that had been one of the reasons why Kyungsoo had agreed to be his boyfriend back in highschool. Possessing a good personality and character are definite precursors to snagging a boyfriend, but nobody said that a handsome face doesn’t contribute. And this is why Kyungsoo can’t find it in himself to slap that annoying smirk off Chanyeol’s face as he steps closer and closer, fingers still strumming the tune as he continues to sing.

 

_ // 'Cause I give you all of me _

_ And you give me all of you. // _

 

They’re a feet away from each other now, and even though they know that many people are watching them, (neither) Kyungsoo (nor Chanyeol) gives them any of his (their) attention.

 

_ // Oh oh. // _

 

The song finishes, and Chanyeol’s fingers come to a stop. He swings the guitar behind him, hands coming up to grip the strap tightly as he gazes straight into the eyes of his Dark Side of the Moon. 

 

“Hey.”

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t reply, but his eyes continue to steadily make contact. 

 

“I’m guessing you saw the note that Yixing wrote on my behalf–”

 

“If I knew that he had written it for you,” Kyungsoo interrupts, expression unflinching even as Chanyeol slightly winces upon hearing the sharpness of his tone. “I wouldn’t have turned up.”

 

“Then, thank goodness Xing wrote it for me,” Chanyeol immediately replies. “Because if I wrote it, you wouldn’t have turned up too, right?” 

 

“Of course.” Kyungsoo gives him a wry smile. “I’d know your– Never mind.”

 

The smile that had never left Chanyeol’s face blooms, and Kyungsoo mentally reprimands himself for that slip-up that’s probably causing the boy to harbour the hope that he’s told himself to not give ever since he knew of his arrival in the city.  _ Dammit.  _

 

“You’d know my handwriting anywhere?” Chanyeol teases, not in the least afraid of the consequences even as Kyungsoo’s face darkens exponentially. “Of course you do, we had been inseparable once.” 

 

“Don’t be so full of yourself, Park Chanye–” Kyungsoo starts, only to be interrupted.

 

“I know everything, Kyungsoo.”   

 

Silence befalls upon them. The tourists that have been watching them have left, boarding their tour buses a while ago, taking their curiosity of this pair of friends (?), acquaintances (?), strangers with them. And all that’s left in the vicinity of the clocktower is the tranquility of the neighbourhood it’s built in, with the occasional roar of vehicles passing through the street or the hustle and bustle of citizens proceeding with their daily routines. 

 

“Yifan and Yixing have told me what really happened two years ago.” 

 

The bewildered expression on Kyungsoo’s face softens briefly before Chanyeol witnesses the drastic change in his eyes as a hurricane appears and the boy snarls, “I’m going to kill them and skin them alive  _ ugh  _ bloody hell they promised not to tell!” Kyungsoo breaks eye contact with Chanyeol then, burying his face in his hands and he groans into them. 

 

Kyungsoo misses the fond smile that creeps onto Chanyeol’s face before he says, “But I want to hear from you why you told the boys to not tell me anything, especially with regards to the death of your grandmother.” 

 

“Would it have made a difference if I told you those things?” Kyungsoo replies as he lifts his head, eyes trailing upwards until they rest on Chanyeol’s once again. His eyes are dark, void of emotions, just like his voice. 

 

“It might have–”

 

“You were leaving. You were due to leave the following week, so what good would it do to tell you any of these things when they’re of no concern to you? You already broken up with me, so you were no longer of any relation to me, you have to remember that. 

 

“So why? Why would I want to tell the person, whom I’ve already lost and could probably never get back even if I told him that I was innocent and had absolutely no idea what those fucking seniors were going on about, about the loss of the person who is the  _ world  _ to me? Think about it. It wouldn’t make sense because  _ you had to leave _ . 

 

“And when you did, you no longer held any form of existence in my life, Chanyeol.”

 

What Kyungsoo says makes sense. A lot of sense, actually. And Kyungsoo knows that Chanyeol knows that there’s nothing he can say to refute his words because they are  _ true _ . (And his mouth is shut.) So Chanyeol doesn’t argue. Instead, he asks, “Then, why did you get Baekhyun to tell me to break up with you?” 

 

Kyungsoo remains silent. He tears his eyes away from Chanyeol’s.

 

“I can’t tell you.”

 

“Why can’t you?”

 

“Because I can’t.” 

 

It’s futile. It’s futile to get Kyungsoo to talk and to establish eye contact. Surprisingly, Kyungsoo realises that Chanyeol isn’t pushing him. He feels Chanyeol’s eyes on him and, yes, they’re searching but they’re not  _ pushy _ .

 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to though I’d really like to hear it before I leave next week.” 

 

At this, Kyungsoo’s head snaps up. “You’re leaving– Wait, that doesn’t concern me.” And Kyungsoo drops his head again, but the damage has been done. His round eyes have betrayed his surprise. “Your departure doesn’t interest me at all.” 

 

“Mm, of course it doesn’t.”

 

Dammit. Kyungsoo hears the amusement in Chanyeol’s words. 

 

“But I’m just going to tell you that I’m leaving next week anyway, and if you want to send Baekhyun and I off, you can get the details from Xing. Okay?” 

 

Kyungsoo isn’t expecting the large hand that suddenly rests itself on his head. He also doesn’t expect the warmth, the  _ familiar  _ warmth that seeps into his crown from Chanyeol’s palm, and it spreads throughout his body. Kyungsoo is unable to prevent, unable to control its spread. (And he inexplicably finds himself not wanting to.)

 

“I’d really like it if you came, though, K– Soo. I’d really,  _ really  _ would love to see you again for the last time.”

 

Kyungsoo doesn’t see the fond yet bitter smile that forms on Chanyeol’s face.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

 

And Kyungsoo watches in disbelief as Yixing reaches up to his chin and taps his fingers in mock contemplation as he hums to himself. “I don’t have one, unfortunately.” 

 

Kyungsoo resists rolling his eyes. “Then, be prepared to die.” And he raises the steak knife in his hand menacingly, laughter bubbling up his throat and threatening to escape as he sees the comical expression of mock fright forming on his best friend’s face. He swings it down…

 

… and something red splatters onto Yixing’s chest as he screams. 

 

“Ew gross!” Kyungsoo shrieks, the clatter of the steak knife ringing aloud in the kitchen. He sees the patch of red on Yixing’s shirt and gingerly takes a step back, hands coming up to fold across his chest, as though afraid that the red would appear on his own. “You are going to wash  _ that  _ off on your own. The washing machine refuses to take that in, you hear me.” 

 

Kyungsoo walks back to his own chair and sits down, hand gesturing to the knife in front of Yixing and the boy picks it up and hands it to him. The boy cringes at the red smeared on his cutlery. “Ugh, couldn’t you have used the  _ other  _ hand, y’know, the  _ clean _ one, to hand me the knife instead, Xing?” 

 

Yixing just laughs. “I know that you were about to laugh when I squirted tomato sauce onto myself. Don’t you dare deny it!” And he wiggles his brows suggestively, earning himself a light slap on the arm from the boy across the table. 

 

“You’re gross. I don’t know why I put up with you.” Kyungsoo deadpans. 

 

“Because you love me,” Yixing coos, standing up to peel the dirtied shirt over his head and he’s about to dump it into the laundry basket when–

 

“I’m saying this again but that shirt is  _ not  _ going into the washing machine.”

 

“Whyyyyyyy?” He instantly whines, plopping back onto the chair and placing the balled-up shirt onto the table. Yixing stabs the omelette on his plate and practically shoves half of it into his mouth before biting. Kyungsoo half-wants Yixing to choke and die, but also half-wants to pull the omelette out to prevent his death. 

 

“Because you’re the one who suddenly squirted the sauce on yourself! I most certainly didn’t tell you to do that!” 

 

“I thought that it’d be funny since you were about to stab my hand with that knife and all! How was I to know that you were never going to? The pain didn’t come!” 

 

Okay, Kyungsoo wants Yixing to choke and die on that omelette. That way, he doesn’t have to kill him himself. 

 

“Fine, I’m joking!” Yixing says, words slightly muffled with his mouth full. “I’ll wash it myself!” He stands up then, and makes his way to the bathroom, only to stop in his tracks when Kyungsoo calls after him.

 

“Xing.” 

 

“Hmm?” He turns around.

 

“Are you... going to send Baekhyun off at the airport tomorrow?” 

 

“I could be. Why?” 

 

Kyungsoo curls his fingers into his shorts to prevent them from doing something dumb and murderous (such as ripping the knowing smile off Yixing’s face). “N-Nothing. Just asking.” 

 

“Ohhhhh-kay.”

 

And Kyungsoo misses the way Yixing’s knowing smile grows into a smirk when he turns.

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


Chanyeol absentmindedly fiddles with the lock on his luggage as his eyes follow Baekhyun, who’s pacing up and down the row of seats they’ve occupied. This anxious tic of Baekhyun would normally rile Chanyeol up but he feels equally anxious, if not more, than Baekhyun does. 

 

“We can only spare ten more minutes,” Baekhyun says, his feet stopping him in front of his best friend. “ _ Ten _ minutes are all they have left to get here before we have to head into the departure hall and sprint like hell to our gate if we don’t want to miss our flight.” He drops into the empty seat next to Chanyeol and rests his head on his friend’s shoulder. Baekhyun sighs. “They’re going to come, right?”

 

Obviously, Chanyeol doesn’t know. Kyungsoo hasn’t given him any sign in the form of texts or calls that tells him that he’s going to turn up; and it appears that Yixing hasn’t done any of that either if Baekhyun’s asking him instead. So Chanyeol thinks it’s best to not harbour any hope that the two people they’re thinking of in their hearts right now are going to appear in front of them. He remains silent, and Baekhyun gets his answer. 

 

Needless to say, he doesn’t like it.

  
  


In the midst of milling around, unconscious people-watching, and more absentminded-fiddling of luggage locks, ten minutes pass by and Baekhyun’s alarm rings. (Yes, he set an alarm.) 

 

“Time to go,” Baekhyun reluctantly breathes out, lifting his head off Chanyeol’s shoulder as he heaves his haversack over his shoulders. “Let’s go, Yeol.” 

 

Chanyeol does the same, but he doesn’t budge when Baekhyun begins to wheel his luggage away from the row of seats. It takes him a couple of steps to sense that no one is following after him, and Baekhyun turns around. He sighs at his friend’s unmoving form. “Chanyeol…” 

 

“Do we have to go, Hyun? Can’t we stay?” 

 

“We can, if we want to drop out of university.” 

 

Baekhyun’s reply is harsh, merciless in its delivery of Baekhyun’s intention but Chanyeol knows his friend’s words are the truth. They can stay, of course, but they’d have to sacrifice their university education to do that and what would their families say to them when they find out?  _ You’re abandoning your future for love? Can love feed you? Can love bring you money?  _

 

_ Will love keep you alive until you die?  _

 

_ No, it can’t _ , Chanyeol’s common sense replies.

 

_ But it can bring you happiness _ , Chanyeol’s heart unhelpfully retorts. But the boy knows that happiness is fleeting, and it most definitely won’t be able to provide you with the material things one would need to survive. Chanyeol would know; he had experienced it firsthand after all. 

 

So Chanyeol gives up, and does what needs to be done. He doesn’t even register any of his movements, giving his mind full reign of his body, locking his heart up lest it intervenes. It’s only when he glances out of the airplane’s circular window after buckling his seatbelt, and sees the right wing of the flying machine, does he finally return to his senses. The sight of the wing startles him, as though he’s never seen it before, and Chanyeol suddenly gasps. 

 

“I can’t be here.” 

 

And Chanyeol immediately attempts to unbuckle himself from the seat. Next to him, Baekhyun notices and hisses, “What are you doing? Yeol,  _ what are you trying to do _ !” His hands quickly cover Chanyeol’s, stopping the movement of his fingers who haven’t been able to unclasp the buckle due to the tremble of his hands. 

 

“I have to get out. I have to get to Soo, he’s probably arrived by now and he’s going to know that I’m not there and–”

 

“Get a grip!” Baekhyun growls through gritted teeth, clenching his hands tightly over Chanyeol’s, effectively halting any form of finger movement. He sees a flight attendant heading towards their row, and slaps on a patronising smile when asked if there was a problem. “None at all,” Baekhyun says without preamble. 

 

The attendant nods, but Baekhyun doesn’t miss the way her eyes had darted over to Chanyeol and the cluster of joined hands at the younger’s seatbelt. Baekhyun forces his smile wider. “There really isn’t any problem  _ at all _ .” 

 

“Very well, sir. Enjoy your flight.” And the flight attendant leaves, hopefully taking all of her concerns towards them away as well. Baekhyun sighs. Then, he notices how Chanyeol seems to have suddenly quietened down and is visibly slumping in his seat. 

 

“Chanyeol…?”

 

“They didn’t come to send us off, right?” 

 

“... No.” 

 

“Not even Xing?” 

 

Baekhyun bows his head. “No, not even him.” 

 

“Damn, they must really hate us.” 

 

“Probably.” 

 

Silence descends upon them then, with Baekhyun promptly removing his hands from Chanyeol’s before retreating to his seat. He copies his friend’s position, tilting his head back against the headrest and clasps his hands above his tummy. He shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh.

 

The plane takes off. Chanyeol forces his eyes open, and he glumly watches the land of China gradually leave his sight until all he sees are blue. 

 

_ Goodbye, Kyungsoo. _

 

It’s going to be a long and sleepless flight home. 

  
  
  


\---

  
  
  


It’s six months later when the pair of best friends receive it. 

 

Chanyeol instantly recognises the handwriting that their names and address are written in, and he can’t help but feel hopeful, and the unconscious smile that forms on his face shows just that. Carefully opening the red envelope, a beautiful card first greets their eyes and the words  _ you’re invited  _ stuns them momentarily. Fear creeps up on the boys as they remove it, together with a pair of plane tickets, and let their eyes sweep the cover of the card, taking in the full sentence  _ You’re invited to our wedding!  _

 

“Shit,” Baekhyun curses, fingers unable to unclench themselves and reach out to hold onto the card that’s currently trembling along with Chanyeol’s hand. “Don’t tell me…”

 

An unsaid  _ they’re getting married  _ lingers ominously in the air. It blows out Chanyeol’s flame of hope, and the warmth in his body disappears along with it. 

 

“L-Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Chanyeol manages to say, the corners of his lips forcing themselves upwards as he shakily opens the card…

 

… and lets out a whoop of both delight and relief. 

 

“THANK GOD,” Baekhyun groans, fingers finally relaxing and they card through his hair as the boy sinks down next to Chanyeol on the living room floor. “Thank goodness it’s not them, Yeol.” 

 

“Yeah, thank goodness.” is all Chanyeol can say as Baekhyun throws himself at him and practically hangs off him like a koala on a tree. In the midst of Baekhyun squealing  _ she’s getting married oh my gosh Feifei-jie’s getting married  _ and squeezing the life out of him, Chanyeol opens the envelope once again, and he sucks in a breath sharply. 

 

For in the envelope lies a scrap of paper with Korean characters written in a handwriting he’d never be able to forget for as long as he lives. 

 

Then, Chanyeol really  _ smiles _ for the first time in months. 

 

He can’t wait for the wedding.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're confused, i'm sorry ;;;
> 
> also, i owe y'all an epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> if you think you've read this before somewhere else (aka aff), don't be alarmed! this work and that work is all mine. i basically edit-slash-rewrote that story to fit with soo and yeol (aka changing the oc to soo). 
> 
> i just really liked that story a lot (aka the last oc fic i'll _ever_ write), and so i wanted to put it out here for everyone to enjoy. it's angsty, i know. 
> 
> but y'all should have known by now (if you've read my stories), that angst is in my blood. TRY GETTING IT OUT OF ME
> 
> ps, if you spot any mistakes (such as seeing a 'she', 'her', please tell me so i can edit it!)
> 
> come help me get angst out of my blood at twitter: soobiscuits


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